


It Was Always You

by InsouciantCastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsouciantCastiel/pseuds/InsouciantCastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was Sam's old college room mate. And he was weird, Dean knew. So, if he was Sam's friend, why was Dean the one who was stuck putting the guy up when he came to visit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say thank you so much for all your wonderful comments on this work. You have no idea how much it means to me. You all are amazing and thank you for reading!

It was the phone.

It took Dean a good 5 minutes to clear his sleep muddled brain enough to figure out that the godawful screeching sound was coming from the phone laying on the table by his bed. Fixed to the front of the phone was a sticky note reading; “Hope you like your new ringtone. That'll teach you for putting yogurt in my shampoo bottle.

“Fuck me,” he cursed quietly to himself, he picked up the phone, ripped the note off and threw it to the bedroom floor before glancing at the caller id. Groaning loudly at his brothers name showing on the screen, he put the phone up to his ear and growled. “What, Sammy? It's 7 o'clock in the fucking morning and you changed my goddamn ringtone to a screeching cat. You just call to make sure it gave me a fucking heart attack? Jesus Christ.” He ran a weary hand down his face, glowering at the bedroom wall as he threw himself back down onto the tangled sheets.

“Didn't like that, eh, Dean? Well, that's what you get for messing with my shampoo. It took me forever this morning to get that mess out of my hair, you know.” Dean could actually hear the bitch face that Sam was making through the phone.

“What's the matter, Sammy? Your glorious locks didn't like the yogurt?” he snickered.

Dean could hear Sam huff impatiently on the other end of the phone. “You know what, Dean, never mind. This is important. I need you to do me a favour.” he spat out the words quickly.

“A favour? Seriously, dude? After waking up to that? No way, man,” Seriously, what was Sam thinking? He didn't actually believe that Dean would do a favour after being basically launched out of his bed at the ass crack of dawn. His tie must be on too tight this morning. It was cutting of the blood supply to his brain. Because, yeah, Dean was proud of his baby brother for graduating top of his law class at Stanford, and then landing a fantastic job at some high priced law office. But there was no amount of brotherly pride that was dragging his sweet ass out of bed this early. He'd pulled two double shifts at the bar this week, plus his regular 30 hours at Bobby's Auto Shop. He was tired, for crying out loud. All he wanted to do was pull the covers over his head and sleep for a freaking week.

“Dean. I'm serious. I need your help.” Sam's voice was low and urgent in Dean's ear.

Fuck my life, Dean thought to himself, giving in to the inevitable.

Sighing heavily, he pushed himself up onto the side of his bed, holding his head in one hand,elbow resting on his knee.

“Jesus, Sam, don't get your panties in a knot. What do you need?” he asked wearily. Honestly, he really, desperately needed sleep.

“Thanks, Dean. I mean, it. You're saving me here.” Sam rushed.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm a peach. You wanna get to the part where you tell me what so important that needs to be done at 7 am in the freaking morning?” Dean growled impatiently.

“Ok, so, you remember me telling you that my roommate from college was coming by for a visit?”

“What, the weird socially constipated guy you lived with for 3 years, but wouldn't ever come out of his room to say hi when I came by? That roommate?”

“Yes, Dean.” Sam sighed. “That roommate. I..um..I kind of forgot he was coming today.” Dean could hear the wince in his brother's voice. “I thought it was next week. And I haven't cleaned out the guest bedroom and that means I don't have anywhere for Castiel to sleep. I don't even have his bed set up yet. I can't let him sleep on the couch, Dean!” Sam spoke hurriedly into the phone, his words sounding more and more panicked.

Oh hell no, Dean thought to himself. “You can't seriously be thinking what it sounds like you're thinking Sam. No way. No fucking way. He can't stay here, man.” Dean was shaking his head in denial. “The guy is creepy, Sam. I swear, the only time I ever saw him was that one morning in the kitchen. Dude, he was standing in the kitchen, half naked, just....staring at me.”

“Yeah, Dean. I know. Castiel is a bit eccentric. But he's a good guy, Dean.” There was silence on the other end of the phone, just before Sam sighed again. Dean could picture his brother in his expensive lawyer suit and tie, pulling his hair back from his forehead with one hand. Seriously, the guy needed a haircut. Five minutes and a pair of clippers, Dean could take care of that for him. “Dean. Please.” he pleaded. “Just for a couple of days until I can get his room set up? I'll even buy you pie. Apple pie. And I'll deliver it when drop off Castiel tonight.” he wheedled.

“You are such a pain in my ass, dude.” Dean grumbled, resigned to the fact that he would do anything for his gigantor of a brother. “You owe me though, Sam. Pie, although a good start, isn't going to be enough for this one.”

Sam's relief was palatable. “Thanks, man. I know, I know. I owe you big for this. And I'll pay you back, I swear. Your call, anything you want, that doesn't involve strippers, glitter and tequila. That weekend last Christmas was enough to last me a lifetime. I swear I'm still finding pink glitter in my closet.”

“Well, maybe that's because you're a giant girl. Maybe you should consider coming out of that closet, glitter and all. We'll still love you Samantha, whether you're wearing a high class lawyer suit or 4 inch stilletto's. Actually, scratch the stilletto's, you're freakishly tall enough.” Dean chuckled at the irritated sound he heard coming from the phone.

“Nice, Dean. Real nice.” he huffed. “We'll be by around 8 tonight. Can you make sure you're at least sober and decently dressed?”

“Yeah, I think I can manage, Sam. Now, will you let me get back to sleep? Some of us have to work nights. Long nights filled with drunk women throwing themselves at me for free drinks. It's a tough job, man. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, of course, Dean. I'm sorry. I forgot you worked last night. I'm sorry. I should have waited. I just saw the calendar and panicked.” Dean could hear the worry in his brothers voice and warmed at the thought that his brother was concerned. He spent so much time worrying about Sam and Bobby, not to mention their dad, it actually felt kind of good that someone was worried about him. Fuck, I must be tired, Dean thought to himself, I'm turning into a bigger girl than Sam.

“Yeah, ok. Whatever Sam. I'm going back to sleep now.” Dean ended the call and lay down across the bed, staring at the ceiling.

He groaned tiredly when he thought about how incredibly awkward the next two days were going to be. Seriously, Sam's college roommate was just weird. In the three years Sam had lived with Castiel, Dean had only seen him that once, in the kitchen.

_It was about 2 in the morning and Dean had woken up absolutely freaking starved. Like hadn't eaten in days hungry. He stumbled out of bed, clad only in grey sweatpants that clung low on his slim hips. Holding his hand over his eyes after flicking on the living room light, he felt his way through the room, cursing softly when his knee connected with the end table situated in the centre of the room, beside the used and tattered plaid couch that faced the tiny tv. Sonofabitch that hurt. Bent over trying to rub the sting from his knee, Dean managed to make it the rest of the way to the small kitchen without any more mishaps. Pushing open the door, he stepped into the room, salivating at the thought of the last piece of meatlovers pizza that he had stashed in the fridge._

“ _What the hell?” Dean practically shouted in surprise. “Dude, that's my pizza!”_

_Standing by the fridge, looking just as shocked as Dean at being caught eating cold pizza in his boxers was who Dean could only guess was Sam's elusive roomate. He stood just an inch or so shorter than Dean. His black hair was sticking out in just about every direction, looking for all the world like he had just been well fucked and rolled out of bed to grab an after sex snack. His chest was lean and smooth, not heavily muscled, but taut and wiry. He was leaning on the counter, one lightly muscled arm braced behind him, the other holding Dean's pizza halfway to his mouth which was hanging open in surprise. And he was just staring at Dean. Finally able to focus his eyes, the sleepiness leaving him as soon as he found the guy in the kitchen, Dean looked up from the piece of pizza dangling from long fingers and looked the guy in the eyes. Shit, Dean thought, this guy has gorgeous eyes. Who the hell has eyes that blue? He though to himself. Shaking his head at that thought, (this was no time for admiring another dude's eyes, no matter how pretty they were, his pizza was at stake here!) he stepped further into the kitchen._

“ _Hey,” he barked. “Did you hear me? That's my pizza you're eating.” The guy didn't even blink. He just kept staring at Dean with those intense blue eyes, his lean frame still stretched out at the counter, ankles crossed on the linoleum floor. Dean stepped forward determinedly until he was standing right in front of the other man. Snapping his fingers in front of this face, Dean tried again. “Hello? Can you hear me, dude? I said, that's my pizza. I was saving it, you know.” Nothing. Just blue eyes framed in dark lashes staring back into Dean's green ones. The other guys expression hadn't even changed. His face was still slack with shock, his plush mouth hanging open. Hell, Dean didn't think the guy had even blinked yet!_

_Fuck it, he thought to himself. This was just too weird. Let the guy have the pizza. The staring thing was really starting to freak him out. Sure, Dean had been shocked too, but this guy looked like he'd gone catatonic when Dean walked into the kitchen._

“ _Forget it, man,” Dean mumbled, some of the heat leaving his voice, being replaced by tiredness. “Eat the damned pizza, if you want. I'm going back to bed.” Turning on a heel, Dean strode purposefully out of the room, not bothering to look back to see if the other guy was still staring or not. He crawled back into bed, pulled the covers up to his shoulder, closed his eyes, and was asleep within minutes, still seeing shocked blue eyes in his dreams._

Pulling himself out of his memories, Dean sighed and resigned himself to a very awkward two days. He'd do it for his brother, but damn it all, he was not looking forward to it. Guy was weird, there was no other way to look at it.

It was going to be a long two days, was Dean's last thought as he drifted back to sleep, still laying sideways across the bed.  

*****

Dean looked around the small two bedroom apartment that he rented with a resigned sigh. He'd done the best he could tidying up, but really there was only so much one guy could do in just a few hours. At least his underwear wasn't laying on the back of the couch anymore.

It hadn't taken long to fix up Sam's old bedroom, at least. No one had used it since his brother moved out a year ago to shack up with Sarah. Lucky bastard, Dean thought fondly. Sam had found gold with that girl. She was gorgeous, long silky black hair, big brown eyes that could melt anyone's cold heart, and a kick ass, don't mess with me attitude. She was exactly what his brother needed, he thought to himself as he smoothed the purple comforter that he spread across the newly made bed. He figured after a year it was probably time to put on fresh sheets.

Striding back into the kitchen, Dean searched the cupboard for the bottle of Jack he had tucked away in his cleaning spree earlier. Pouring a bit of the amber liquid into the glass he pulled down from the open door above the sink, he downed the contents in one gulp. Pulling a face, he hissed at the burn, feeling a pleasant warmth settle in his chest. He may have promised Sam he'd be sober, but that didn't mean he couldn't use a bit of liquid courage.

The thing was, and he hadn't told anyone this, thank you very much, he'd never been able to get the vision of Castiel stretched out and half naked in the kitchen out of his mind. It's not like he wasn't ok with finding a guy hot, hell he'd made a few bucks when times were lean because he wasn't afraid of fucking a dude. But those eyes, Jesus, those were the kind of eyes that bored right into your soul and laid you bare. It had taken weeks before Dean had been able to close his eyes without seeing those blue eyes, just staring. His dreams had been filled with oceans of blue, tousled hair and a lean, runners body. The number of times he had jacked off to that image alone was embarrassing. Who needed porn when a set of impossibly blue eyes were enough to get you hard.

That had been what, 5 years ago, now? He hadn't thought of Castiel, hadn't dreamed of blue in a very long time. Remembering now, Dean couldn't really feel any of the desire he'd had back then, just a slight bewilderment at the other man's strange behaviour that night in the kitchen. Dude was weird, that's all there was to it, Dean though wryly to himself.

“Hey, Dean? You here?” Sam's voiced rang out from the front entrance.

“No, Sam. I completely forgot you were coming and went out. Oh wait,” Dean smirked as he walked out of the kitchen, grimacing to himself, dreading how uncomfortable this was going to be, “that's not me. That's you.” Dean came to a sudden stop as he brought his eyes up to the pair standing just inside his door.

Right behind Sam was a man that Dean barely recognized. Granted, he'd only seen him once, and that was at 2 o'clock in the morning and the guy had been in his boxers, but Jesus Dean did not remember him looking this damn good. He was like every single kink Dean had, all rolled into one 6 foot tall, leanly muscled body.

Starting at the glossy black dress shoes, Dean let his eyes travel up the neatly pressed black pants, sitting comfortably on lean hips, topped with a black waistcoat that emphasized the mans slim waist. A black dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal strong forearms and a purple tie completed the outfit that included an actual pocket watch for Christ's sake! Swallowing thickly, Dean finally raised his eyes, finding himself stunned mute by the strong jaw slightly covered in scruff, the plush pink lips and then God, those eyes. Jesus fuck, those blue eyes framed in black lashes were staring right back at Dean. Those eyes hadn't changed a bit, they still felt like they were biting straight into Dean's soul. His black hair was tousled, still looking for all the world like he'd just crawled out of bed after a night of vigorous, athletic sex. Dean groaned silently to himself and prayed that wouldn't embarrass himself by getting a freaking hard on just looking at the guy.

Yeah, Dean wasn't afraid to admit that the sexy librarian look was a definite turn on for him. It didn't matter if it was a guy or a girl, anyone who looked like they would bend him over the counter and use a ruler on his bare ass if he returned his books late was straight line to his cock.

Trying desperately to banish the thoughts of Castiel with one hand on Dean's lower back holding him down, while running a hand over his ass cheek, whispering “You were so good, boy”, Dean cleared his throat and stepped forward, one hand outstretched.

“Uh, hi. It's nice to finally meet you, Castiel,” he stammered thickly.

Castiel's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he stared at Dean's outstretched hand like he wasn't exactly sure what to do with it. After several very uncomfortable seconds of Dean's arm just hanging there, the other man finally reached out and wrapped a warm hand around Dean's, gripping tightly.

“Yes, of course. It's a pleasure, Dean.” Sweet Jesus fuck, Dean thought to himself as the low gravel of Castiel's voice went straight to his groin. That was it, Dean was screwed. This was the first time he'd ever heard Castiel speak and dear God how could someone's voice be that damned sexy. It really wasn't fair at all. Dean had gone straight from this is going to be really uncomfortable, the dude is weird to please slam me up against the wall and fuck me senseless.

This was not good at all.

Throwing a look at his brother, Dean turned and raised his eyebrows while taking in a deep breath. Sam threw a warning look at his brother, immediately figuring out what Dean's problem was. Don't you dare, the look practically screamed at him. Lifting his shoulders slightly in a shrug, Dean shot back a What am I supposed to do? The guy's hot look and started walking toward the living room, leaving Sam to glare murderously at his retreating back.

“So, Castiel, your room is right down this hall,” Dean pointed across the living room. “I'll show you.” He started across the carpeted floor when he felt a hand restraining him. Throwing a look over his shoulder, he saw Sam glaring at him.

“That's ok, Dean. I remember where my old room is. I'll show Castiel the way.” Sam pushed his way past Dean, glaring another warning at him.

“Whatever, dude,” Dean shrugged. Damn, he needed another drink.

Watching the pair cross the living room and disappear behind the door across from his own bedroom, Dean waited until he heard the click of the door closing before he groaned loudly and turned to retreat to the kitchen, where the bottle of Jack Daniels was waiting for him on the counter. Pouring himself a more generous amount, Dean grimaced as he twirled the glass slowly, watching the amber liquid slosh slightly in the glass.  
Leaning back onto the counter, unconsciously mirroring the position he found Castiel in that night 5 years ago, Dean contemplated his options. Obviously grabbing the guy and begging him to bend him over the kitchen table and fuck him senseless wasn't even an option. That is something he'd have to leave his his fantasies tonight in bed. And now that he had that deep, glorious voice to add to them, the sexy librarian vision was going to take on a whole new feel. Just the thought of hearing that low growl as he subdued Dean, forcing him to his knees with one strong hand, the other tugging at his short hair, pulling him forward until Dean's mouth was wrapped around his cock...

Dean jumped at the sound of the kitchen door slamming against the wall as Sam shoved it open and strode through, Castiel in tow. Dean turned quickly and opened the fridge door, taking in a few deep breaths to try to calm himself. Grabbing three beers, he turned back to the pair standing by the table, hoping like hell he could hide his obvious arousal by positioning himself behind the tall back of the chair that was sitting in front of him. Reaching across the table, he passed two of the beers to Sam and Castiel, and twisting the top off his own, he downed half of it in one gulp.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he burped quietly. “So, Cas,” the other man's eyebrows raised slightly at the nickname. “Sam show you around the place?” Dean tried for a casual tone, missing by about 10 miles.

“Yeah, Dean. I gave him the grand tour of the estate,” Sam rolled his eyes. Ok, so he was still a bit pissy about Dean's obvious reaction to his friend. Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother and took another swig of his beer.

Deciding to ignore the sarcasm and scorn that was practically dripping from his moose of a brother, Dean turned his attention back to Cas, who was hovering uncomfortably at the end of the kitchen table, one hand wrapped around the beer bottle, the other gripping the wooden rail of the chair in front of him. His eyes were fixed on a point on the whorled surface of the oak table, studiously avoiding looking at Dean. Well, no fucking wonder, Dean thought to himself. You practically slobbered all over him at the door. Dean sighed and tried again. “Is the bedroom ok, then?”

Castiel's head raised and Dean caught a sharp breath as he lost himself in blue once more. “The room is more than adequate, thank you.” Cas spoke formally, his deep voice tracing a shiver up Dean's spine.

“No problem, dude. You're welcome here until Sammy pulls his head out of his ass and gets your room ready there for you.”

Sam grunted an annoyed “Dean!” which Dean ignored. “Help yourself to the food, if you can find any. I don't cook much, but you're welcome to what's here as long as you are. If you need anything, just let me know, I can swing by the grocery store after I'm done at the shop.” He tipped his beer at Cas, grinning as he quipped, “I thought tonight we would order pizza.”

Castiel flushed and lowered his gaze to the table again, but not before Dean thought he saw a slight twitch of amusement on his lips.

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam huffed. “I swear, you have no class at all. I'm sorry Castiel, my brother can be a real asshole sometimes.” Poor Sam, he was more embarrassed that Castiel was, Dean thought.

“It's fine, Sam.” Castiel waved a long fingered hand dismissively. Raising the bottle to his lips, he caught Dean's eyes as he smirked before tipping the bottle back, extending the length of his neck as he drank deeply. The tip of a pink tongue darted out to catch a drop of liquid on his bottom lip and Dean practically groaned out loud.

Yes, this was going be a very long two days, he despaired. Very, very long.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was the one who answered the door when the pizza finally came. An appreciative grin stole across his face as he eyed the petite, yet well built delivery girl. She was short, coming only to Dean's shoulders, blue eyes with a blonde pixie cut framing a face that could only be described as cute. Her eyes had lit up with interest when Dean answered the door. Letting his grin widen, Dean leaned casually against the door frame, one leg crossed over the other, cradling the still warm pizza's in his arm as he chatted with the young blonde. 

“You're not the usual delivery guy” Dean drawled as he tilted his head to peek at her name tag, “Amy, is it? Gotta say, you're a step up from Dave the Delivery Dude” Dean chuckled running his green eyes up and down her petite frame. 

“Ah, no,” Amy blushed as she giggled nervously. “Dave called in sick, so I got his route tonight.”

“Well, lucky for me, then I guess.” Dean winked and let a smirk crawl across his face as his green eyes raked up and down her tiny frame.

“Dean?” a deep voice spoke from right over his shoulder. 

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean exclaimed as he juggled the pizza boxes that threatened to tumble to floor when Dean jumped about a foot into the air. “What the hell? You should wear a freaking bell dude. Seriously.” The words caught in Dean's throat as Cas leaned forward, placing a hand on Dean's bicep to help steady him. Taking the warm boxes out of Dean's hand, Cas flicked a glance to the girl still standing in the doorway, blue eyes wide as she took in the sight of the two gorgeous men standing in the doorway. 

Cas still had his hand on Dean's arm as he stared intently at Amy and issued a firm “Thank you.” to her in an obvious dismissal. Turning his gaze back to Dean, he caught green eyes with blue. “Sam is getting the plates out of the cupboard if you're ready.” he leaned forward until his lips brushed the shell of Dean's ear, sending a fucking shiver up his spine. “You should close your mouth, Dean” he whispered, warm breath fanning across Dean's cheek. 

Dean snapped his mouth closed, eyes wide as Cas pulled back. Taking his hand from Dean's arm, he smirked, turned on a heel, and walked back to the kitchen. Dean could do nothing more than stare at the trim hips swaying as he strode away and down the hall. What the everloving fuck? Dean thought wildly to himself. 

The sound of Amy clearing her throat brought Dean back into focus. “Uh, right. Your money.” He shook his head to clear it, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. Counting out the bills, he handed them to the girl who was now looking at him with wide eyes. “Keep the change,” he murmured softly, closing the door on the poor girl who was still standing in the hall. 

Dean leaned heavily against the wall and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back until it hit the wall with a light thunk. Ok, what the hell had just happened? he asked himself. Bringing a hand up to cover his eyes, Dean took in several ragged breaths as he tried to bring himself under control. It was one thing to fantasize about Castiel, it was a whole other thing entirely to have the man lean into him so closely their chests were basically pressed together and whisper in his fucking ear. Jesus Christ how was he supposed to control himself when the dude had no clue about personal space. And that voice scratching low in his ear. Dean groaned again as he recalled how the gravel tones had made the hair on his neck stand, how his warm, moist breath had caressed his cheek, blowing softly over his heated skin. The firm way his fingers had grasped his arm, not tight enough to bruise, but definitely with enough strength that Dean would have had a hard time pulling away. That was getting way too fucking close to Dean's own fantasies of being grabbed and manhandled the way he loved to be. He had no problem being the aggressor when it came to sex, but nothing did it for him more than someone who took charge. The thought of being with someone who was actually strong enough to subdue him, control him, take him apart, push him to the edge of what he thought he could take, and then further, that was something Dean had been searching out for a very long time. 

The way Cas had looked at him, the strength he felt in that simple grip, the control he had over Dean, just with a look and a touch, it was enough to make Dean bang his head against the wall in frustration. 

This. 

Was. 

Not. 

Fair. 

Cas was Sam's odd college friend. The socially inept weirdo that hid in his room every time Dean visited his brother in the tiny apartment he rented off campus. He and Sam didn't got to college together. They had met through an ad Sam had put in the paper looking for a roommate to split the rent with. After interviewing several potential applicants, all of them just plain too weird to even contemplate letting them move in, Castiel had shown up and he and Sam hit it off right away. 

Castiel was already working at the local library, part time. He had moved out of his home 6 months prior to answering Sam's ad and had been living at a local Salvation Army, not able to afford a place of his own. He'd been looking the entire time, but like Sam, hadn't been able to find anyone that suited him, or that he didn't think might ritually sacrifice him in the night. After a fairly lengthy interview on both their parts, they came up with a set of house rules they could both live with and Castiel moved his sparse belongings into Sam's apartment. 

They'd formed an easy friendship, according to Sam. They seemed to work well together, not invading the other's space, respecting boundaries and such. They lived together for three years, before Castiel got a full time job at a library two towns over and had to move. In the entire time he lived there, Dean had only seen him that one night. 

Pushing himself away from the wall with a grunt, Dean adjusted his jeans and strode into the kitchen. Hesitantly, he stepped into the room, to see Sam and Castiel already digging into the cheese laden pizza, both of them chuckling warmly over a shared joke. Sam's back was to Dean, his hair flipping on his shoulders as he turned his head to snort at Dean. “Took you long enough. Did you get her number?” He took another bite of his pizza, the tilted his head to look at Dean. “She must have been something else for you to take this long to get in here for pizza and beer. I'm on my second piece already.”

Dean's eyes involuntarily flashed to Cas, who was sitting at the far end of the table, using a fucking knife and fork for Christ's sake to eat his pizza. He speared a square of pizza he had just cut off and raised his eyebrows as he stared at Dean. “Yes, Dean. Did you get her number?” he smirked as he brought the fork to his mouth, blue eyes wide and innocent as he chewed.

“Uh..no. She wasn't really my type.” Dean stuttered as he pulled out the chair between Sam and Castiel who had positioned themselves at the ends of the table. 

Sam choked on the bite of pizza he had just torn off. “Not your type? Dude, Castiel told me what she looked like. Not your type my ass. What happened, did the infamous Dean Winchester charm fail?” Sam hooted with laughter as Dean's face flushed. “Seriously? Oh, this is fantastic!” Sam howled, throwing his head back in glee.

Dean threw a glance at Cas, to see what his reaction was. He was calmly slicing another section of his pizza, bringing it slowly to his lips, all the while not taking his steady gaze away from Dean. He swallowed thickly and tore his eyes away to glare at Sam. “Funny Sam. Real fucking funny. Like you're really one to talk. How long did it take you to get up the nerve to talk to Sarah? I swear, you pansied around for so long I thought you were going to grow a vagina.” Dean snarled as he grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box laying in the middle of the table. He sank his teeth into the melted cheese and almost viciously tore a bite from the triangle in his hand. 

Sam paused as he was raising the beer in his hand to pout at Dean. Yup, hit a nerve there, Dean thought victoriously to himself. “You know what, Dean, fuck off. Seriously. You're just jealous, you know. I'm a gentleman and I've found the perfect girl. You're too busy whoring around with anyone that'll lower their expectations enough to say yes to you. Honestly, dude, standards. You should get some.” 

“You're just jealous that I get more action than you ever have,” Dean sneered at his brother. 

“Whatever, Dean. You keep telling yourself that your pathetic love life is anything comparable to my adult relationship with Sarah. Whatever helps you sleep at night, dude.” Sam shook his head and set his beer on the table. “Anyway, Castiel, sorry about leaving you with my ape of a brother. I promise, I'll have your room ready for you in a couple of days. Sarah was out today buying a bed. The store said it should be delivered sometime Wednesday.”

Cas shrugged, unconcerned. “It's really not a problem, Sam. I don't mean to be an inconvenience to you and Sarah. Honestly, since I'm here, and if Dean is ok with it, I see no reason to put you and Sarah to any trouble.” Cas turned his gaze back to Dean. “Is that arrangement satisfactory to you, Dean?”

A week? An entire fucking week? No way. No goddamned way was he going to make it a week with those blue eyes staring at him like Cas wanted to lay him on the table and dissect him like some sort of 10th grade biology project. 

“Uh...sure,” Dean stuttered hesitantly, then frowned and glanced quickly in Cas's direction, only to find the other man staring intently at Dean, with that same self satisfied smirk on his face. 

“No, Castiel. I wouldn't ask that of you,” Sam gestured to Dean. “It's not like Dean's exactly the best roommate. Trust me, I lived with him for a long time, I know. I don't think you want to spend your entire vacation watching Dean get drunk and bring home girls.”

Cas lowered his head and chuckled. The sound went straight to Dean's groin, causing him to lower his forehead to his hand and close his eyes. “I think I can handle myself, Sam. And besides,” Cas hesitated here, leaning back in his chair and crossing his forearms on his chest, tightening the sleeves against his biceps. There was a slight definition there, a hint of strength that made Dean groan to himself. “I suppose I haven't been completely truthful. The fact of the matter is, I was offered a position at the university library here. It's a much more prestigious position, accompanied by a much larger paycheque. I, of course, accepted. So,” leaning forward now, Cas laid his arms, on the table in front of him, using one hand to run his forefinger and thumb along the condensation on the beer bottle sitting beside his now empty plate. “That means, I will be staying here permanently. I will be starting my search for a new place to live tomorrow.” 

Dean's eyes were glued to the movement of Cas's fingers on the neck of the bottle. His tongue peeked out and moistened suddenly dry lips as his eyes traced the curve of Cas's finger as it wrapped around the neck of the bottle, his thumb pressed in the other side, watched helplessly as Cas raised the bottle to his mouth, tipped his head back and swallowed. 

Seriously he had no idea how to read Cas. Was the guy flirting with him? Or was he just that socially inept that he had no idea about the proprieties of personal space. Or staring. Or smirking. Or hell, just the way he looked. Sweet baby Jesus, did that man have any idea how he looked in those snug dress pants? Dean sighed. Probably not. The guy was more than likely totally unaware of the effect that outfit had on Dean's groin. Here he was sitting at the table basically drooling all over this guy, probably making him feel uncomfortable. Classy, Dean thought to himself. A new low for you. 

“Cas, are you serious? That's fantastic news!” Sam exclaimed happily. “What university?”

Dean tuned out the pair geeking out at his kitchen table and turned his attention back to the pizza that was slowly congealing on his plate. Picking it up and taking another bite, he watched Cas out of the corner of his eye while he chewed. It wasn't going to be easy, but hell, Dean was a grown ass man. He could control his dick for a few days while the guy looked for a place to live. Honestly, he wouldn't even be here all that much between his nights at the bar and his shifts at Bobby's. Simple enough to avoid Cas and all his temptation. 

“Ok, ladies, I don't meant to interrupt your geek talk, but I gotta get to bed. I've got an early shift at the shop, then one at the bar tomorrow. So, if you girls will excuse me, I need my beauty sleep.” Pushing back his chair, Dean picked up his plate and carried it to the sink. Turning the tap, he rinsed the dish, bent over and placed in in the dishwasher. Closing the door with a slight push, Dean turned back to the pair. “Don't worry about the mess. I'll get it in the morning.” he gestured at the empty pizza box and beer bottles. 

“Nonsense,” Cas stated as he rose from the table. “If I'm staying here, I will, of course, help with the chores.” Dean cursed softly to himself as Cas leaned over the table, pulling his pants tight across his ass. Running a hand down his face in frustration, he watched as Cas gathered the dirty plates and empty beer bottles before turning to stride purposefully toward the counter. Once he caught Dean's gaze, he held it steadily as he crossed the small room, before coming to a stop at the sink. Dean groaned inwardly as Cas slowly lowered one eyelid before turning away to rinse the dishes and place them in the sink. Grabbing the dishcloth that Dean had laid over the tap earlier in the day, he moistened it under the running water and strode back to the table to wipe it off. 

“Well, since that's settled, I'm gonna get going home.” Sam yawned as he pushed his chair back from the table. “Castiel, it's great to see you again.” Sam leaned forward and pulled Cas into a warm hug. “I've really missed you, man.” Patting Cas's back, Sam pulled away and shot a glare at Dean. Don't even think about it, dude. Dean had seen that look far too many times to mistake it for anything else. Lifting his shoulders in a shrug, Dean raised the corner of his mouth in a smirk and simply walked out of the kitchen, leaving Sam huffing in frustration. 

Fuck Sam, Dean thought. Let him think what he wants. It's not like he was about to risk his brothers friendship with the guy for a quick lay. Dean might be a whore and an asshole, but he wasn't that much of a dick. He had some morals for crying out loud. Ok, not many, but he was definitely going to draw the line here. There was no way he was going to make a move on Cas. No fucking way. 

Dean crossed the living room and pushed open his bedroom door. Pushing it closed behind him with a click, he leaned back heavily and closing his eyes he exhaled loudly. It sure as hell wasn't going to be easy, he thought resignedly. Cas was hot, there was no getting around that. And when you put that together with the way the guy kept getting up in his personal space, smirking and fucking winking? Dean wasn't exactly used to denying himself when he found someone this attractive. Normally he'd come on hard and heavy, have one or maybe two nights of amazing sex, make sure they enjoyed themselves then move on. That certainly wasn't on the table with Cas, which meant a long week of frustration and a hell of a lot of action for his right hand. 

If he got out of this intact, they'd have to submit his name for freaking sainthood

****

Dean groaned loudly as he rolled over in his bed to slap a hand on his alarm that was situated on a second hand, wooden night stand. Throwing an arm over his eyes, he cursed to himself. 

Well today outta be real fun. After a night of no sleep thanks to vivid images of Cas bending him over the kitchen table, using one hand to hold him down by the back of his neck, pounding into Dean relentlessly until both of them came, there was no way Dean was feeling up to facing the idiots that inevitably came into Singers Auto Shop. The only good thing about being up this early (it was 5 o'clock in the fucking morning for crying out loud) was that he would be able to go about his morning, and not have to worry about facing Cas when he was far from his best. 

Rolling out of the tangled sheets, Dean stumbled to the bathroom to brush away the gunge inhabiting his mouth. He stared at himself in the mirror as he scrubbed the toothbrush over his teeth, grimacing at the black bags under his eyes and his pale complexion. Great, he actually looked as awful as he felt. Wasn't that just fucking fantastic. He was facing down an 8 hour shift at Bobby's then a long night at The Roadhouse. Dean groaned as he remembered that tonight was the bachleorette party that Ellen booked last week. That meant that Dean would be on double duty as both bartender and babysitter. God, he hated it when Ellen put him on drunk party girl patrol. Granted, he was really fucking good at it, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it at all. 

Dean didn't lie to himself, he knew he was a fine piece of ass. But that didn't mean he wanted that ass fondled all night long. Fending off drunk women with octopus hands was not his idea of a fun night. Sure the tips were spectacular, but he always carried around the bruises from pinching for days afterward. 

Dean rinsed his mouth and then stumbled into the kitchen to turn on the coffee. There was no way in hell he was going to make it through this day without copious amounts of caffeine. Hell, he wasn't sure there was enough coffee available to drag his sorry ass through what was definitely going to be one of the worst days he's faced down in a very long time. 

Dean came to a dead stop in the doorway of his kitchen, gaping at the figure sitting at the head of the table looking for all the world like he'd been up for hours. Blue eyes were staring steadily at Dean's dishevelled appearance, taking in his wild, just rolled out of bed hair, his lack of sleep ravaged face, and of course, the fact that he was clad only in his boxers. A black eyebrow raised at Dean's discomfort, as Cas raised his coffee cup to his lips and took a sip. 

“Ah....” Dean managed to get out. Real smooth, he thought to himself. “I, uh..I wasn't expecting you to be up, man. I'm sorry.” He pointed a thumb over his right shoulder as he started to turn away. “I'll just go, uh, put some clothes on.” He stammered as he placed one hand on the door, preparing to push his way through and, if he was completely honest with himself, go hide in his room. 

“Dean. Stop.” Cas's firm voice rang out in the silence of the room, freezing Dean in his tracks. He stood, hand still raised and pressed on the white door, closing his eyes. He took in a deep steadying breath, put on his best, charm the pants of the ladies smile and shot a look over his shoulder. 

“Nah, man. I'll just go put some pants on. I didn't know you were up, or I would have made sure I was dressed. I'll make sure tomorrow. Sorry, man, really.” He said, aiming for a light tone. Seeing Cas's eyes narrow slightly, caused Dean's breath to catch in his chest before he dragged his eyes away and started pushing on the door again, desperate to find refuge in his room. 

“Dean,” Cas stated, lowering his voice even deeper than it was normally, and fuck if that wasn't a sound that went straight to Dean's dick. “I said, stop. There is no need for you to change your morning routine because of me. I have always been an early riser, regardless of what time I go to bed, or well I've slept. I should have informed you of that last night. My apologies.” 

“It's no biggie, Cas.” Dean stated, still aiming for light, but knowing that he was missing it. Shrugging inwardly to himself, Dean crossed the kitchen to grab a cup out of the cupboard over the laminate countertop. If Cas wasn't freaked out over Dean wearing only boxers, who was he to argue. He was comfortable and not looking forward to actually starting this day. So, the longer he could put off actually putting on clothes, the better in his opinion. 

“Do you often start your day this early?” Cas asked softly, taking another sip from the porcelain cup he cupped between both hands. Pursing his lips, he blew air across the surface of the liquid to cool it slightly. 

“Yeah. When I work at Bobby's, I start at 7. It's a half hour drive, so I gotta be out of here by quarter after 6 at the latest. Doesn't leave much time in the mornings. Just enough to grab a coffee and a quick shower, then I'm out the door.” Dean sighed ruefully. He didn't have much money, or time to himself, really, but he'd been doing this for so long, it was just..normal. He'd been working full time since he was 16 and dropped out of high school so he could pay the bills. Their dad, John was an alcoholic and couldn't hold down a steady job. Sure, he worked, but only a week or two at a time before he'd get fired. That would send him on a bender, and he'd disappear for two or three weeks at a time. Which left Dean, the older brother in charge of Sammy and the bills. So, as soon as he was old enough, he walked out of the school he rarely attended and never looked back.

Bobby had given him his first job at the auto shop the same day Dean quit school. He'd been hanging out there for a month or so prior to that, pestering Bobby with questions and earning a bit of money sweeping up, cleaning the bathrooms, and answering the phones. He spent the next 6 months hanging over Bobby's shoulder, learning how to change the oil in a car, diagnose engine trouble and generally making a nuisance of himself. He'd learned a lot from Bobby, more than he'd ever learned from his own father. Hell, all John could teach him was how to drink, whore and be a drain on society. At least Dean knew he came by his worst tendencies naturally. 

Bobby was the one who introduced Dean to Ellen. She terrified Dean at first. He had no idea how to take the gruff, no nonsense, outspoken woman. It didn't take him long to realize that under that hard exterior beat a heart filled with love and compassion for the young teen she took into her employ. So, Dean spent his teenage years up to his elbows in grease during the day, sweeping up peanut shells and mopping up puke at night, and in between raising his little brother. Dean was the one who made sure that Sammy had new clothes without holes. He was the one who put dinner on the table at night while his dad slept off another bottle of tequila. Dean was the one who went to all Sam's school plays, awards ceremonies and sporting events. 

Dean leaned back, one elbow resting on the counter as he took a long drink from his coffee. Closing his eyes in bliss as the liquid traced its way down his throat, filling him with warmth and that bit of a kick he needed to get his day started, Dean groaned in pleasure. Raising the cup to his nose, he inhaled the fragrance deeply and sighed. “Ahh..” he smiled ruefully. “Nothing like a shot of caffeine to start a shitty day.” he groused.

Opening his eyes, he saw Cas frowning at him. He had turned in his chair and was now facing Dean, his legs spread slightly, one elbow resting on the back of his chair, the other on the table beside his. His now empty coffee cup was placed in the middle of the table. Cas had dressed a bit more casually this morning. He still was wearing well pressed black dress pants, topped now with a light purple dress shirt and matching tie. He was missing the waistcoat this morning, which in Dean's opinion was a crying shame, and his feet, which were crossed at the ankles were sporting only black dress socks, rather than the leather shoes he wore last night. All in all, he was still a striking figure, Dean thought to himself. 

“You''re not planning on eating before you go to work?” Cas's voice was low. His narrowed gaze was still fixed on Dean who was staring to feel a bit uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He was feeling more and more exposed in just his underwear while Cas was fully dressed and ready to walk out the door. 

“Nah. I'll grab a donut at Bobby's, maybe, but there's not enough time to eat.” Dean shrugged nonchalantly. I go straight from Bobby's to start my shift at Ellen's at 4. The bar opens for dinner at 5. She'll feed me then too. Can't have her best drink jockey passing out behind the bar.” he laughed easily. 

Cas's frown deepened as continued to stare at Dean. Shaking his head slightly, he rose from the chair and crossed the room,coming to a stop mere inches from where Dean stood. His gaze intensified as he leaned in just slightly. “You need to take better care of yourself, Dean.” Cas spoke softly, not breaking the steady stare.

“Uh..” Dean stammered, more affected by Cas's proximity than he was comfortable admitting. “I'm good, Cas, really. I take fine care of myself, dude.” Dean scoffed.

“No, Dean. You don't.” Cas practically growled. “You work incredibly long hours, you don't eat properly and you drink to excess.” Reaching out his arms, Cas placed one hand on the counter on either side of Dean, effectively trapping him. “Sam told me about you when we were roommates. He spoke very highly of you, of how much you sacrificed to ensure that he was never left wanting.” Cas tilted his head to one side. “You don't have Sam to care for now. Why do you still insist of working yourself to death?”

Dean's mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to form words. Any word at all would do, but nothing came out. He snapped his jaw closed and lowered his eyes. He simply couldn't meet Cas's steady gaze any longer. Not without throwing himself at the guy, anyway. Standing this close, Dean could see the flecks in Cas's eyes, could count each eyelash that feathered on his cheek. “Cas...I” Dean stuttered quietly. 

“As I stated, Dean, you need to take better care of yourself. You're only human, and your body can only take so much excess.” Cas straightened suddenly, pulling his arms back from where they were crowding Dean. Placing a palm on Dean's waist, he pushed slightly. “Go have your shower. I will make you breakfast.” Dean stared down at that hand that was wrapped around his side, resting just about the elastic of his boxers. “Dean,” Cas said sharply. Glancing up quickly, Dean gasped as he saw that Cas had moved his face closer and was staring intently at him, a slight frown on his face. “I said, go have your shower. When you are done, you will sit at the table, and you will eat. You're not leaving here this morning without food.” Pushing harder, Cas was able to finally move Dean from his place at the counter. Stumbling slightly, Dean took a few steps then turned back to see that Cas was now leaning into the fridge, gathering items in his arms. 

Deans eyes darted from Cas's form and then to the floor. Confused, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving behind the other man who was humming quietly to himself as he arranged the ingredients on the counter. 

Maybe a shower would help clear his head, Dean thought to himself as he worked his way slowly across the living room and down the hall to the small bathroom at the end. Honestly, he had no idea what had just happened, but hey, he was getting breakfast out of the deal, so that was good at least. He just wished he felt more in control of the situation.

He wasn't sure how he felt about the feeling in in his stomach that was telling him he wasn't in control of anything anymore. And what the hell was he supposed to do about that?  
.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean groaned, wrapping his arm around his bruised ribs as he reached out with his other hand to open the door to his apartment. Turning the knob and pushing the door open, he stumbled into the darkened hallway and closed the door behind him with a soft click. It was only 11 pm, but he didn't know if Cas was asleep yet and he didn't want to wake him up. All he wanted to do was crawl into his bed and let his bruised and bloodied body rest.

Dean hobbled his way across the living room toward his bedroom, stumbling in the dark. He grunted in pain as his hip bumped the edge of the couch, grimacing at the agony that shot through his bruised ribs. He cursed to himself as his elbow hit the lamp sitting on the wooden end table, sending it crashing to the floor, the sound amplified by the absolute silence of the room. Fuck it, he'd clean up the mess in the morning. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his double bed, pull the sheets up over his head and not get out for a week.

Just as he reached his bedroom door, he whimpered as he heard a voice, scratchy from sleep behind him.

“Dean?” Cas's voice slurred. “Dean, what's wrong?”

“Nothin' Cas. I'm just heading to bed. Sorry I woke you up.” Turning the knob, Dean pushed the door open to step into his bedroom. He stopped when he felt a firm grip on his shoulder. Gasping as Cas's fingers dug into yet another bruise he didn't know he had, he flinched away from the firm grip.

“Dean.” Cas's voice was cleared of sleep now, firm and deep. “Dean, what happened?” He grasped Dean's bicep, gentler but still firm and forced him to turn. His blue eyes widened as he took in Dean's ravaged face. “Jesus,” he breathed.

“Cas, I'm fine.” Dean was still holding his arm around his ribs, shoulders and back hunched over. It hurt too much to stand up straight. Hell, it hurt too much to breathe. “Please, I just want to go to bed.” Dean closed his eyes and whispered.

Dean's eye that wasn't swollen shut flew open as he felt soft fingers tracing the contours of his face, moving gently over his eyebrows, down his bruised cheek, stopping at his mouth. “Dean. You are not fine.” Cas took in a deep steadying breath, then placing a hand gently on the small of Dean's back he led his slowly to the bed. Turning him around with a steady hand on his shoulder, he gently pushed Dean so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, then lowered himself into a crouch between his legs. His hands were warm on Dean's knees as he narrowed his eyes in concern.

“Dean,” he coaxed, his whispered voice soft. “What happened.” His hands were rubbing soothingly over the denim covering Dean's thighs, sending shivers up Dean's spine. He caught Dean's gaze and winced as he took in the dark bruising covering Dean's cheek, the swelling of his eye, the blood that was still oozing from Dean's swollen bottom lip.

“Cas, man, I'm fine,” Dean protested weakly. He was having a hard time concentrating, but he wasn't sure if it was the hit he took to his head, or the feeling of Cas's hands running up and down his thighs.

“Dean. Stop.” Cas's voice was firm. “Don't be ridiculous. You are obviously not fine.” Reaching up, a gentle hand cupped Dean's tender cheek. “I am going to take care you, but I need you to tell me what happened and what injuries you have.”

Dean's stomach tightened at Cas's words. He took in a shuddering breath and tried to process what Cas had just said. He must have hit his head harder than he thought. People didn't take care of Dean, that was his job. He couldn't honestly remember a single time where someone hadn't been leaning on him There was never a moment where Dean was the centre of someone's attention. It didn't work that way. Dean wasn't the one that people cared about, or took care of. He was the guy who did what needed to be done for everyone else, so they didn't have to. That was his job.

But fuck it would be so nice to once, just once give in and let someone else carry the load. But, life just didn't work that way. Dean wanted, hell yes, he wanted. But Dean didn't get. That just wasn't how things went for him. Too many times he'd tried and lost, and now he realized that he just wasn't meant to...have. That was for the Sam's of the world. The good people. The one's who didn't waste their lives pretending they were something when really all they had going for them was a go nowhere life, a dingy apartment and leftover pizza in the fridge.

Every instinct was telling Dean to push Cas away, to scoff and play down how he was feeling. Instead, he felt the sting of tears. He was so tired of always being the strong one. He wondered what it would be like to be able to lean on someone else. Just once. How would it feel to be cared for, to not have to fight for everyone else.

Cas's face softened as he swiped his thumb across Deans face, wiping away the tear that was tracing it's way down Dean's cheek. “Dean,” he repeated softly. “You need to talk to me.” he coaxed. His voice was quiet, but firm and Dean simply gave in.

“My, uh, my ribs.” he choked out around the sobs that were threatening. “Other than my face,” he tried to joke. Cas's face tightened at Dean's feeble attempt at humour. “I don't think anything is broken,” he continued softly. “Just really fucking sore.”

“Ok,” Cas raised himself from his position between Dean's knees and placed his hands on the edges of Dean's leather jacket. He eased the coat down Dean's shoulders, gently unfolding Dean's arm that was still cradling his ribs. “Shhh..” he whispered as Dean gasped at the sudden shot of pain the action sent coursing through his ribs. “I'm sorry, Dean. Let's get this shirt off, so I can see how much damage was done.” Dean closed his eyes as Cas moved back into a crouching position. His long fingers worked the buttons on Dean's plaid shirt with clinical precision. After all the buttons were undone and the shirt was hanging loosely around Dean's chest, Cas pushed it down over his shoulders, running his hands over Dean's heated skin. Taking the gasp that Dean let out at the touch of Cas's hands on his bare shoulders as one of pain, Cas cupped Dean's face and pressed their foreheads together.

“I'm sorry. I know this is painful for you, but I'm almost done. You're doing so well,” he praised, his breath fanning over Dean's mouth. “Just a bit more and then you can lay down. Ok?” He pressed a tender kiss to Dean's forehead before continuing to push the shirt off his body. Dropping it onto the floor, Cas turned his gaze to the contusions that were covering Dean's chest.

The only indication that Cas was affected by what he saw was a tightening of his eyes and a small furrow that formed between his eyebrows. “Jesus Christ, Dean,” he whispered as he took in the damage. “What happened to you?” He reached out a hand, almost tentatively and placed it on Dean's chest, over his heart which was beating way too fucking fast. Dean may be in a shit ton of pain right now, but Christ, feeling Cas's hands all over his bare skin, seeing the concern on his face, that was affecting Dean more than anything else. Dean placed his hand over Cas's where it rested, gripping his fingers to stop the gentle caress.

“Drunk wife. Jealous husband. Got caught between them. He suckerpunched me and I hit my head on the floor. Don't really remember much after that. I guess he got a few kicks in though.” Dean watched as Cas's face tightened more as his eyes raked over the boot shaped bruising that was forming on Dean's chest and sides. He wasn't sure if it was in anger at him or the other guy, but he had his suspicions. Most people were going to believe the worst of Dean. It's just the way things were. He was used to it. Of course Cas would assume the whole thing was Dean's fault.

“Explain, Dean. What happened to make this man attack you.” Cas squeezed Dean's hand reassuringly, but his eyes were hard as Cas stared at Dean, demanding an explanation that Dean really didn't feel like giving. Would it be that hard, really, just once for someone to trust Dean. He didn't fucking do anything. He'd be lucky if he'd be able to get out of bed tomorrow much less make his shift at the garage. It wasn't fair.

_The night had been going along pretty much as he expected it to. The bachleorette party came in, rowdy and already drunk. They ordered shots, they danced, they were loud and obnoxious. Every time Dean came near the table, at least one of them would pinch his ass, or try to pull him down onto their lap. And of course there was the inevitable call for him to lay on the table for ab shots. Sorry ladies, that was not going to happen. He may need the money, but he did have some shred of self respect._

_Things had gone south around the time one particularly aggressive blonde with scarlet tipped fingers managed to corner Dean at the bar. She pushed herself up against his chest, backing him up until the edge of the bar was digging into his back. Reaching out one delicate hand, she cupped the back of his neck, pulled down and placed an open mouthed kiss on his slack lips. As stunned as Dean was, he didn't even have time to react when suddenly the warm pressure was gone and a fist had connected with the side of Dean's face, knocking him to the Roadhouse's hardwood floor._

_Spitting blood out onto the dusty floor, Dean was attempting to raise himself onto his elbows only to feel the tip of a boot connecting with his ribs.  
_

“ _You keep your fucking hands off my wife, asshole!” a voice growled above him as yet another kick landed on Dean's stomach, knocking the air out of him. “I'm gonna fucking kill you, you son of a bitch!” Hands grabbed the back of Dean's shirt, forcing him upright and holding him in place as a meaty fist connected with his eye. Dean could feel himself starting to black out, was praying for something, anything to end this when he heard Ash's voice hollering at the guy who was handing Dean the worst beating he'd ever had to get his fucking hands off Dean. The hands let go and Dean fell back to the floor, groaning and spitting out more blood._

_After manhandling the fuming husband out of the bar, Ash dragged Dean into the bathroom to get him cleaned up a bit._

“ _Man, you got the crap beat outta you! What happened?” Ash steadied Dean as he swayed even though he was gripping the bathroom counter with both hands. Moving his hanging head slowly back and forth, he groaned. “Guy didn't like his wife kissing me, I guess” He barely managed to get the words out around his cracked and swollen lips. Jesus he hurt everywhere. Raising his head, he grimaced at the image that was reflected back in the mirror. His left eye was bruised and already swollen shut. There was a lump forming on his forehead where he'd hit the floor, which was largely contributing to the wooziness he was feeling now. His bottom lip was cracked, blood still seeping from the wound, and swollen to about twice it's size. More blood traced it's way down Dean's face from his nose, which thank God didn't look to be broken._

_Reaching out a shaky hand, Dean yanked on the paper towel, then balling it up, he ran it under the flow of water from the sink in front of him. Gingerly, he dabbed at his lip, hissing at the sting. Gritting his teeth, he continued wiping and dabbing at the blood, trying desperately to ignore the pain that was echoing throughout his body._

“ _I'm calling you a cab, compadre,” Ash gently laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. “You my friend are going home.” He ran a hand through his mullet, flicking the absurdly long hair over his shoulder, turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving Dean alone in his misery._

Bringing himself back to the present, Dean felt defeat pour through him. He closed his eyes as he felt the tears gathering again. He shook his head resignedly and loosened his grip on Cas's hand, letting it drop back to his thighs.

“I didn't fucking do anything Cas. Just never mind. Let me sleep, please. I'll be fine in the morning.” Dean tried to turn away, but found himself stopped by a firm grip on his legs.

“Dean.” Fuck there it was again. That authoritative tone that was guaranteed to make Dean snap to attention and listen. Damn, Cas had that tone down to a fucking art form.

“What, Cas?” he asked tiredly

“I never for a moment assumed you did anything to deserve this.” The pressure of a single finger on his jaw turned Dean's face back and once again, green eyes were lost in blue. “You're a good man, Dean. I know you would never intentionally do anything that would rouse this much anger in someone. I simply wanted to know what had happened.” Cas's voice was calm, reasonable and it made Dean feel like an ass.

“Why do you care, Cas?” Dean whispered. “You don't even know me, man. Other than that night in the kitchen, we basically just met yesterday. What makes you so sure?”

Staring steadily at Dean for a long moment, Cas leaned back onto his heels, his head tilted slightly to the right. “I need to take care of you Dean. Now is not the time for this discussion.” Cas stated firmly. “We will talk tomorrow. You will tell me what happened, then, Dean. Understood?” Raising himself to a standing position, Cas turned on a heel and strode purposefully out of the room, leaving Dean still sitting on the bed, mouth agape.

Curling into himself, Dean lowered his aching body carefully onto the bed. When Cas had removed his shirt, Dean had gotten a better look at the damage done to his ribs. Seeing the bruising made it that much worse. His entire body was shaking with pain, with the strain of holding himself together. He groaned, closing his eyes tightly against the tears that filled his eyes.

He didn't understand any of this...thing with Cas. Why in hell did he even care? People didn't care about Dean. He was the fuck up, the loser, the guy who had no future and no one gave a shit. It was his job to care about everyone else, take care of them. Dad taught him that much at least. He was the one who took care of Dad and Sam. People just didn't look at Dean that way.

So, why did Cas?

Then again, he'd walked out and left Dean on the bed, so maybe he'd finally figured it out, gone back to bed, leaving Dean to his fucked up life and aching body. That worked fine, it's what he was used to, taking care of himself. He didn't need anyone else. All he wanted to do was sleep anyway. He groaned again, sinking into the bed.

“No, Dean. You can't sleep yet.” Cas's voice broke through the blur of sleep that was already overtaking Dean. He cracked his good eye open and groaned when the bed shifted as Cas sat on the mattress beside him. “I need you to sit up, Dean.” Reaching around, Cas grasped Dean's shoulder and helped him into a sitting position. “Hold out your hand.” Placing two white pills in Dean's open palm, Cas guided them to Dean's lips. Taking them into his mouth, he took the glass of water Cas was offering and swallowed them both. “That's good,” Cas murmured softly, pressing a kiss onto Dean's temple. “Just about finished, Dean, then you can rest. Can you drink a bit more water for me?” Dean nodded and sipped at the icy water for a few moments before reaching out to set the now half empty glass on the nightstand.

“Thanks, Cas,” he muttered tiredly. It was terrifying how good it felt to have Cas taking care of him, bringing him pain killers, petting his hair, acting like Dean was precious and good and actually worth something. “I still don't know why you're doing this, but thanks.” A small smile crossed Cas's face as Dean looked over to him, sincerity written on his face.

“I know you don't, Dean.” he whispered before pressing his lips to Dean's forehead. Pulling back, he removed his arm from around Dean's shoulders and stood. Dean immediately missed the warmth of the body pressing into his side. “Can you stand up for a moment? I need to get you comfortable so you can sleep.” Cas's voice was all business, now, no hint of the softness from moments earlier.

Dean pushed on the mattress with both hands and achingly slowly raised himself to his feet, even if he wasn't standing fully upright. He moaned low at the effort of trying to straighten his back, his bruised ribs protesting.

A warm hand on the back of his shoulder pressed firmly. “No, Dean, it's fine. Just stand however is most comfortable for you. It will only be for another moment then you can lay back down, I promise.”

Dean started as he felt a fumbling at the button of his jeans. “Whoa, dude.” he protested weakly. “What the hell?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Dean. I am simply helping you undress so you can rest easier.” Cas chided gently as he worked the button loose and lowered the zipper. Gently, Cas pushed Dean's jeans down past his hips and lower until they were pooled at his feet. “Sit, Dean,” he said as he pushed gently on Dean's shoulders, helping him manoeuvre into a seated position on the bed. Crouching at the edge of the bed, Cas lifted first one leg, then the other, finally removing Dean's jeans, folding them and placing them on the chair on the other side of the room.

“Ok, Dean, lets get you into bed now.” Gently, Cas grasped both of Dean's shoulders and helped him position himself so he was laying on his side, facing Cas, his unblemished cheek cradled by the soft pillow. Dean's eyes fluttered closed as soon as he felt the smooth fabric caress his skin.

“Thanks, Cas,” he murmured. “I mean it.” Sleep was already starting to creep over Dean, making him lose focus on the man standing beside his bed.

“You are welcome, Dean,” Cas spoke softly. Dean hummed as he felt a soft kiss in his hair. “Sleep now. We will talk in the morning.” A hand carded through Dean's hair, soothing him and making him ache for more touches.

“M'kay, Cas.” he muttered, letting sleep finally overtake him.

Cas stood by the bed, frowning slightly as he took in the battered form that was finally at rest. This man had effected him in ways that he had never experienced. The need to touch, to protect, to care for and cherish was overwhelming. Here was a man who had sacrificed everything for his brother; his childhood, his teenage years, his future, all so Sam, the boy that he had raised when he was just a child himself, could aspire to a life that Dean would only be able to dream of. What he had given up could never be given back, and Castiel's heart ached for what Dean had lost.

It was obvious that Dean had no sense of self worth. Bravado, yes. He had that in large quantities. But the self loathing that Castiel could sense from this man was heart wrenching. He simply wasn't able to see the good in himself. He saw himself as a failure, and so that was what he showed to the world; a womanizer, a drunk, shiftless and untrustworthy.

Castiel knew differently though. He had learned much about Dean while living with Sam. He had grown to respect his roommates older brother through the stories that Sam would tell. Tales of all the times Dean gave up his weekends to drive Sam to his baseball games. The nights where Dean didn't eat because there was only enough food for one. The fact that Dean had dropped out of high school to work full time so Sam would have everything he needed at the age of only sixteen. Sam told Castiel all of this, not at once, but over time. He wasn't sure that Sam fully appreciated what Dean had lost to ensure that Sam had everything he needed. He was grateful certainly, but he had grown to see the man, the image that Dean portrayed to the world, not as the man who had given up everything to care for the brother he loved more than his own wellbeing.

And this man couldn't see the good in himself. He couldn't see the difference he made in people's lives, the effect he had on those who cared about him. Castiel's eyes softened as he watched Dean's even breathing. His eyes raked over the other man's swollen face and wondered again, what had happened. A jealous husband, a drunk wife and Dean had gotten caught in the middle. It was a mystery for the morning. Castiel would ensure that he got the full story after Dean had had a chance to sleep, to let his body start healing.

Reaching out, he adjusted the beige comforter and brought it up to cover Dean's bare shoulder. Pressing his hand onto his bicep, he gave a slight squeeze. He walked across the room, flicked off the light switch and carefully closed the door behind him.  


	4. Chapter 4

It turned out Dean didn't explain to Cas what happened the next morning. 

Not because he didn't want to (he didn't but that was besides the point) but because he couldn't drag his sorry ass out of bed. His body simply didn't have the strength to push through the stiffness and pain from his injuries. 

It was three days before Dean's head cleared enough for him to be able to focus his eyes on the numbers showing on the clock beside his bed. 2:49. Since it was dark in the room, Dean assumed it must be night.

Never let it be said that Dean couldn't spot the obvious. 

Shifting under the blankets, Dean frowned into the darkness. He had spent the last three days in a murky state of half consciousness, not really sleeping, but never fully awake. He had foggy memories of Cas bringing him more of the white painkillers, using his arm to prop Dean up so he could drink the water he placed to his lips. He thought maybe he might remember Cas sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking his hair while he placed an ice pack on his swollen eye, warm lips pressing against his forehead and uninjured cheek. Dean scowled. That can't be right, he thought, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes as he scrunched up his face in frustration. 

Sure, Cas had been an absolute angel the past few days, caring for Dean. He could have just left him on his own to heal, but he'd taken the time to make sure that Dean was comfortable, had his painkillers, even supporting him with one strong arm around his waist as he hobbled to the bathroom. Dean could still feel the strength in the arm that supported him, groaning as the thought of that iron grip brought to the surface the fantasies from the first night they'd met, of Cas holding him down, manhandling Dean into position to drive into him mercilessly until both of them came with a shout. 

“Dean?” Cas's deep voice rumbled from the darkness. Dean heard a shuffling sound and then suddenly Cas was there, concerned and bleary eyed from lack of sleep. He reached out a hand and placed it gently on Dean's bare shoulder that wasn't covered by the white sheet. “Dean, are you ok? Do you need something?” his voice rasped in the darkened room.

Dean blinked in surprise. What the hell was Cas doing in his room? He blinked again, bringing Cas's form into focus, perched beside him on the edge of the bed. He stared at Cas, lines of exhaustion clearly etched into his face, dark circles surrounding the endless blue of his eyes. “Cas?” Dean managed to force out between stiff lips. “What...What are you doing here? You should be in bed.” Dean just couldn't wrap his thoughts around Cas sitting in his room at almost 3 in the morning. He felt the hand on his shoulder tighten slightly. 

“I've been sleeping in the chair.” Cas smiled slightly. “It's not the most comfortable bed, but this way I was close when you needed me. You've been restless.” Cas tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. “You seem more alert, now. How are you feeling?” Cas removed his hand from Dean's shoulder and cupped it around his uninjured cheek, his thumb tracing a line back and forth on his cheekbone. It was the most tender touch Dean could ever remember feeling. He closed his eyes for a brief second, turning his face into the warm palm before frowning up at Cas's worried eyes. 

“I don't really know. I guess I feel ok.” Dean shrugged slightly, gasping at the twinge of pain that action produced. “Ok,” he panted, “Maybe not one hundred percent, yet.” he joked weakly. “But, yeah, I, uh...I feel better than I did the other night. Have you been in here the whole time?” Dean found that very hard to believe. There was no way anyone, much less Cas, essentially a complete stranger would be that dedicated, sleeping in an uncomfortable arm chair to watch over a man he barely knew. 

A small huff of laughter escaped Cas as bowed his head. “Yes, Dean. I've been sleeping in here, as I already mentioned.” He raised his head and stared quizzically at Dean. “Why? You didn't believe me?”

“Yeah..uh, I mean..um..Dude, why?” Dean stuttered, shocked at Cas's quiet admission. His brow furrowed in confusion, as he tried desperately to process his reaction to realization that Castiel, his brother's friend, quite literally the hottest guy Dean had ever met, had spent three days camped out in his room while he slept off the effects of a beating he didn't deserve. It didn't make any sense at all. Why the fuck did Cas even care? Not even Sam would have done the same. It didn't matter that it's something Dean would have done for anyone without question, but this was different. This was someone doing this for him. People didn't do things like this for Dean. He couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling of not right, knowing that Cas had been here the whole time. That he had seen Dean at his most vulnerable. And after seeing that, was still here, looking at Dean like he was...what? Special? Important?

Dean wasn't either of those things. He was nothing. It was up to him to make everyone else feel that way, to ensure that they were cared for, that they felt valued. He was the grunt, the whore, the drunk. He didn't deserve the compassion that Cas was showing him now. He didn't deserve the calloused palm on his cheek, the soft look in Cas's eyes as he stared at Dean in the dark. He didn't deserve any of the warm feelings that were working their way through his tired body.

“Why? Dean, you needed me,” Cas's voice was filled with something bordering amusement, like he had known this question was coming and was pleased that Dean hadn't disappointed him. He shook his head dismissively. “That is beside the point,” he continued firmly. “Do you need anything? You are due for your painkillers.” He stated after glancing to the only source of light in the room. “I will be back shortly. Then you can rest again.” Cas placed both hands on his knees and started to push himself up off the bed. 

Cas stopped his movement as Dean reached and and lightly grasped Cas's wrist. He tilted his head and looked back at Dean quizzically. “Wait,” Dean mumbled. 

“Yes?” Castiel replied softly. “Do you need something while I'm up?”

“No, I just..”Dean stopped running his free hand down his face in frustration. “Just...Thanks, man. For taking care of me, I mean. You didn't need to do that and I, uh, I really appreciate it. So, yeah, thanks. For that.” Great, Dean thought to himself. You sound like a freaking idiot. The guy spends 3 days taking care of you and the best you can do is a lame thanks man? Fuck me.

The corners of Cas's mouth tilted upward slightly in a small smile as he nodded, then turned to walk out of the bedroom, breaking Dean's light grip on his wrist. “I will be back momentarily with your pain killers and a drink, unless there is something else you need?” he asked quietly over his shoulder as he paused at the open doorway. 

“Nah, I'm good Cas,” Dean replied tiredly. Throwing one arm over his eyes, Dean sighed. He could tell that his body was healing well, he ached a hell of a lot less than he did even a day ago. He was still incredibly stiff, but at least he could shift in bed without too much discomfort. The worst part (alright not the worst part, but still pretty fucking terrible) was the amount of money he'd lost the last three days while he was laid up in bed being babied by Cas. He was supposed to be at Bobby's each day and there was a double shift at the Roadhouse last night that he'd missed. Dean did some mental math and cursed softly as he realized how much he would actually have in his bank account. It would take some time to recoup from the last few days and that was going to mean some serious sacrifices. Like noodles for dinner and no beer sort of sacrifices. 

Feeling more than a little pathetic, Dean allowed himself to wallow in self pity for just a moment. He worked really fucking hard, he always had, but with the amount of money he had to spend out, there just simply was never enough. It all seemed so futile sometimes. Cas had been right with what he said in the kitchen the other morning before Dean started the day from hell. He worked too fucking hard, but there were simply too many people depending on him for it to be any different. He didn't know what else to do. All he knew was that there were people who needed him and he couldn't fail them. Not like he'd failed everyone else in his pathetic life. This was one time he simply had to succeed. 

Dean worked his aching body into a sitting position as he heard Cas entering the room. Raising his eyes, he took in Cas's tired frame and felt a stab of guilt. There was no way he should look like that because of Dean. It wasn't right and Dean was going to make sure that Cas got the rest he obviously needed. Cas's blue eyes were heavy with fatigue, his face pale and etched with lines of exhaustion, his hair uncombed and ridiculous the way it stuck out at odd angles. Mostly, though, it was the stoop to his shoulders, the dragging of his feet as he worked his way to the edge of the bed, the faded light in the blue of his eyes that tightened Dean's heart and strengthened his resolve. No way in hell was anyone going to suffer this way for the likes of a loser like him. He simply wasn't worth it. 

“Here,” Cas murmured softly, placing the painkillers in Dean's upturned palm. He popped them both in his mouth, chasing them down with a mouthful of the icy water that Cas held out to him. Turning slightly, Dean placed the glass, wet with condensation, on his nightstand and looked Cas directly in the eye, determination set in his features. 

“Thanks, Cas.” he started. “You, uh, you don't need to stay here, you know. I'm good now. You should go get some sleep. You look like you're about to fall over, dude.” Seriously, Castiel looked like he was about to drop. His elbows were resting on his legs, head bowed in exhaustion. Cas huffed a small laugh and tilted his head slightly so he was gazing at Dean from the corner of his eyes.

“Yes, well, I won't lie to you. I am very tired.” Cas said softly. “ You seem to be much better now. I was afraid to leave you.” he admitted. “I wasn't sure if you had a concussion. I didn't think it was safe to leave you unattended.” Cas straightened his back as the corners of his mouth ticked upwards into a small smile. “I believe I will find my own bed, now. But,” his voice became firmer, now, “I would like you to answer a few questions for me, first.”

Dean tensed at the question. Damn it, he thought. He really didn't want to have this conversation now. Hell, he didn't want to have it anytime, if he was honest with himself. He knew how pathetic his life was and the last thing he wanted was to put voice to it. Saying it out loud was just going to make it that much more real, something that he was going to have to actually face. He didn't want to see the look of pity on Castiel's face. Or worse, the disgust when he realized just how pathetic and worthless Dean really was. He was selfish, he admitted. He liked the fact that Cas, for whatever reason, thought that he was something, that he was worth worrying about. He really didn't want to see that look fade from Cas's eyes to be replaced with the dismissal he saw in everyone else when they came to the realization of who Dean really was.

“Cas, man,” Dean breathed. “I really don't want to talk about it.”

“I understand that Dean, but I'm afraid I must insist.” Castiel's voice was firm, the corners of his mouth tightening in determination. “Tell me what happened at work, Dean. Why did that man attack you.”

“Because he caught me kissing his fucking wife, Cas,” Dean spat angrily. Fuck it. He wasn't going through this. Better for Cas to find out now that Dean was a loser with no moral compass, no redeeming qualities. Then he could just move on with his life and leave Dean to return to knowing that he wasn't worth anything. Then he would stop giving Dean those looks that made him think there might actually be someone who fucking believed he was something more than what he was.

Cas hummed thoughtfully, his blue eyes narrowing, his gaze unwavering. “I don't believe you are telling me everything, Dean.”

Dean's mouth fell open as he returned Cas's steady look. “What the hell, Cas? I just told you. The guy beat the everloving crap outta me because he caught me making out with his wife. What more do you want?” Dean turned his head to the side, unable to meet Cas's eyes any longer. He practically growled in frustration as he painfully shifted his position on the mattress, crossing his arms protectively around his chest.

Dean's head shot back around as he felt a soft touch on his thigh through the light sheet that was covering him. 

“Dean.” Cas's steady voice shot a thrill of heat to Dean's stomach. It was that deep, scratch of a tone that Dean couldn't ignore. Once he was sure he had Dean's full attention once more, Cas began speaking again. “Dean, you already told me you don't believe you deserved this attack. Now, begin again and tell me exactly what happened. No lies, no redirection and do not try to convince me again that this was something you brought on yourself through dishonourable actions.” Dean immediately missed the warmth of Cas's hand on his thigh when he repositioned himself so he was facing Dean squarely.

“Cas, man, why won't you just let this go?” Dean practically whined. He sighed when Castiel simply returned his pleading gaze steadily, never breaking the connection, patiently waiting for the answer that he knew Dean would eventually give him. 

Running a weary hand down his face, Dean surrendered. He had no idea why Cas was so intent on believing the best of him, but fuck it, it felt good. There wasn't a moment of doubt in him that Dean was telling the truth, that he didn't actually do anything. It confused the hell out of Dean but fuck it if he was going to keep fighting. Cas wanted the truth, that's what he was going to get. 

All of it.

“One of the ladies from the bachelorette party cornered me. I guess she got tired of me pushing her away from my ass every time I went to serve their drinks. She wrapped herself around me and planted one.” Dean closed his eyes. “I was just about to push her away when her mountain of a husband came in and sucker punched me. It caught me off guard, I hit my head on the floor and, honestly, that's all I remember, Cas.” Opening his eyes, he found Cas staring at him, his head tilted in that strange way that he had, frowning at Dean, working through what he had just heard.

“I see.” he murmured quietly. “Dean, why do you continue to put yourself in these situations. It's not healthy to work such long hours, you don't seem satisfied in your work and situations such as you just described are demeaning. Your job at the auto shop would bring in a sufficient amount of money to support your lifestyle. Why do you continue to work at a job that causes you nothing but pain and humiliation.”

How the hell did Castiel manage to read Dean so fucking well? Not one person in Dean's life had ever once questioned Dean's desire to push drinks at Ellen's. Everyone, Ellen included, assumed that Dean was there because he loved the attention, the drunk women and the easy access to beer. Never, not once had anyone seen how much Dean hated the fact that the women all assumed he was an easy lay (he was, but that was beside the point) and that Dean relished their attention. 

No one had ever asked him why. 

Dean hesitated, shifting his position uncomfortably and debated telling Cas everything. On the one hand, he didn't want to hide anymore. He'd love nothing more than to unload his sorry tale on someone. On the other hand, Dean simply didn't share this with anyone. It was his problem, his responsibility, his mistake. 

Desire for support won out and Dean found himself talking, telling Cas just what a fuckup in life he really was and why he was never allowed to have what he wanted.

“I dunno if you really want to hear this Cas.” Dean whispered. 

Castiel could hear the defeat in his voice and his heart ached. Reaching out, he placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing gently. “Dean, there is nothing you can tell me that will change my opinion of you in anything but a more positive way. You are a good man, Dean. I know that already about you. You are honourable, you are strong and you are self sacrificing. You give all you are to those you love and ask nothing in return. You convince them that you are irresponsible and untrustworthy, but that isn't true. I only want to know why.” 

“Cas,” Dean breathed, his heart racing at the words that Cas spoke, with quiet reassurance. He took them in, allowed himself, just for a moment to believe them. To believe that someone actually had that much blind faith in him.

Taking in a shaking breath, Dean began his story.

“About a year ago, I got a phone call.” he started. “It was from a girl I met about ten years ago, in the Roadhouse, if you can believe that. We, uh..got together that night. I brought her back to my place, we fucked and she was gone in the morning when I got up.” Dean shrugged negligently. That really wasn't an unusual occurrence. Lot's of chicks the he brought home sneaked out in the night after they sobered up and found their self esteem again. “Honestly, Cas, I didn't think of her again until that day, when she called. Hell, I don't even know how she found me, I didn't even remember her name until she told me.” He watched Cas's eyes tighten slightly at that admission. “Yeah, Cas, I'm a real peach.” he rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

Cas's fingers tightened warningly on Dean's shoulder. “I won't sit here and listen to you demean yourself Dean. I meant what I said. You are a good man, you have just made some unfortunate decisions in your life. Now, please continue.”

Dean stared incredulously at Cas, who was sitting calmly on the edge of the bed. He had removed his hand from Dean's bared shoulder, and placed it on the sheets between them. Dean's eyes flicked to the space, wishing that Cas would reach out and place his hand somewhere, anywhere on Dean's body, so he could feel the connection he craved.

“O-ok then.” Dean stammered. “So, about a year ago, Lisa calls and tells me that she has a son, named Ben. A nine year old son with green eyes, brown hair, freckles and an undying love for AC/DC.” He watched as Cas's eyebrows shot up at that. 

“You had a son for nine years and she didn't bother to mention it to you?” The look on Cas's face was a mix of anger and disgust. It warmed Dean to know that Cas was insulted for him, upset that Dean had lost so much time with a son he hadn't known existed. 

Dean let out a self deprecating laugh. “Really, Cas, you can't blame her. I mean look at me. I'm not exactly Daddy material. She got pregnant from a one night stand with an easy bartender. Why would she tell me that she was pregnant? She did what she thought was right and kept that boy a long way from the guy who donated sperm to give him life.” Dean shook his head. He didn't blame Lisa at all. Hell, he would have done the exact same thing in her position. 

Dean sneaked a glance at Cas and took in a sharp breath at the anger he saw reflected on the other mans face. “Dean. I told you already once, I refuse to sit and listen to you say such self deprecating things. I have told you, you are better than that. Why you insist on continuing to attempt to convince me you are something you clearly or not, is beyond me. I will ask one last time for you to stop insulting yourself. Please.” Cas's voice was tight with suppressed anger which shook Dean more than he cared to admit. He really had no fucking clue why Cas took it as a personal insult when Dean spoke the truth about himself.

“Right,” Dean frowned, deciding to simply move on with his story and ignore what Castiel had essentially growled at him. Dean hadn't thought the gravel of Cas's voice could get any deeper, but the anger that was seeping through his words lowered his voice to a register that raised the hair on Dean's arms. He practically shivered in response to the authority he heard. “So..um..Lisa called and told me about her son, Ben.”

“Your son, Dean. Ben is your son, too.”

“Cas, let me finish the story, ok man?” Dean asked tiredly. At Cas's small nod, Dean leaned his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. This was hard for him, opening up and allowing another person in, letting them hear, well, everything. Hell, he hadn't even told Sam about Ben, yet. He wondered how long it would be before Cas finally realized that Dean wasn't worth the attention he gave him and walked out of the room, out of Dean's life. 

“My apologies, Dean. Please continue.” Castiel acknowledged with a slight nod of his head.

“So, Lisa reached me on my cell about a year ago and told me about Ben. We arranged a time and I drove to her house. Ben was there and man, Cas, if there had been even a bit of doubt that he was mine, as soon as I laid eyes on that kid, it was gone. He's the spitting image of me at that age, freckles and all.” Dean smiled softly as he remembered how shy Ben had been at that first meeting in Lisa's two story home an hour away. He had stood slightly behind his mothers lean frame, one arm wrapped tight around his waist while staring at Dean with identical green eyes distrustfully. It took a while and the offer of pie (hell yeah this was definitely Dean's kid) but he did finally coax Ben out of his shell. They sat in Lisa's kitchen, at the wood table eating apple pie and learning about each other. 

Dean learned all about Ben's likes (girls, pie and classic rock) as well as his dislikes (school, salad and, well, school). Ben loved to play sports, baseball mostly. That was something Dean had never had a chance to enjoy himself, even though he'd always wanted to. There simply wasn't time, or opportunity. Sammy came first. Ben showed Dean his team photo's, the first place trophy they won last season and the snapshot of the cute blonde that kissed him on the cheek to congratulate him on his winning bat. They shared a grin and a high five across the table at that, while Lisa laughed softly, watching them both with soft eyes. 

“So, yeah. I, uh, got to know Ben. I've spent as much time as I can with him, when I'm not working. He's great, Cas. Man, he's so funny. And he's smart. Smarter than I ever was at his age.” Dean continued, pride colouring his voice as he imagined Ben living the life he never would. “I started sending Lisa money to help out, you know? Take responsibility for my own kid, right? Not much, but enough to cover her mortgage payment so she'd be able to buy Ben whatever he needed.” Dean stopped here, and risked another glance at Cas only to find the other man regarding Dean with a steady gaze, encouraging him with a small smile and a nod of his head. 

“Right. So, things were going along really great, you know? Ben and I have gotten real close. I'll never be an actual Dad to him, but we're buds. And, yeah, that's good enough, right?” Dean took in a shaking breath, to prepare himself for the next part of the story. “After a couple of months, Lise and I noticed that Ben was getting tired really quickly, and he was losing weight. She took him to the doctor for some tests and...” Dean brought his hand up to swipe at the tears that were stinging his eyes. He felt a hand resting lightly, reassuringly on his thigh and gave Cas a watery smile. 

“The, um, the tests came back about 4 months ago,” he continued hoarsely. “Ben..” he broke off as a sob escaped him. He pressed a shaking hand to his trembling mouth and took in a steadying breath and continued. “My son, Cas. He uh...it's leukaemia.” For just a short moment he let his grief take hold and shudder through his body. He raised his hand and covered both of his eyes, allowing the tears to streak unobstructed down his cheeks. 

Dean felt a movement, then the press of a hand at the back of his neck pulling him forward into a strong embrace. Laying his head on Cas's shoulder, Dean allowed his sobs to wrack through his frame, his tears soaking through the dress shirt that Castiel was wearing, although god only knew why he hadn't changed into something more comfortable while he was sleeping in the chair. Dean felt Cas's hand run soothingly up and down his bare back, the other tangled in his hair as Cas whispered softly in his ear. “Dean, I'm so sorry.” he breathed. “I'm so sorry,” he repeated over and over as he held Dean's trembling body close, soothing with his touch. 

“I work these jobs, Cas to help Lisa pay for Ben's treatment.” Dean whispered softly into Cas's soaked shoulder. “Chemo is freaking expensive, man. She needs all the help she can get.” He turned his head, resting his cheek on Cas's shoulder now that his tears had dried. He breathed deeply, feeling the agony of what he was losing fill him.

“He's dying, Cas.” he whispered brokenly. “My son is dying and I can't do a damn thing to stop it.”


	5. Chapter 5

Cas was sitting at the kitchen table, elbows propped on the whorled surface, both hands cupping his coffee, blue eyes focused on the peeling paint of the doorframe, lost in memories of the previous night. He was still reeling from Dean's confession, sorrow filling him as he recalled how Dean had clung desperately to him as he sobbed his grief over finding and then facing the prospect of losing his son.

Pursing his lips, he blew softly over the warm liquid, then raised the cup and sipped, feeling the warmth tracing through his exhausted body. He hadn't lied when he'd told Dean he had spent those three days caring for him. Seeing Dean beaten and bloodied had affected Castiel in ways he hadn't expected. Brought to the surface were feelings he hadn't known he had until Dean turned and faced him in the hallway outside his bedroom. He couldn't turn away from a man so obviously in pain, not just physical. It saddened him that Dean worked so hard at ensuring that no one saw his vulnerability, playing up the ideal that he was nothing more than an unreliable, shiftless drunk, effectively pushing away anyone who may care about him.

Last night, holding Dean as he finally allowed himself to lean on someone else, pour out his frustration and his grief, Castiel had made a promise to himself. He wasn't going to let Dean go through this alone. For some reason, Dean had made the decision to trust Castiel with a secret he had kept from his own brother, as close as they were. He would honour that trust, he would be there to support Dean, to help when needed. He wouldn't have to go through this alone anymore.

_Dean had finally calmed in Castiel's arms, a deep breath shuddering through his limp frame, Castiel pulled back slightly, using both hands to cup his ravaged face. His thumbs swiped over both cheeks, wiping the tears and soothing in a single touch. He pressed his forehead to Dean's and breathed in his short, wet breaths, closing his eyes as he processed the information he had just received._

“ _Dean,” he started, not sure exactly what to say, how to put into words everything he wanted to say to this man who had so much placed on him. It wasn't fair that he had given up so much. “Dean, I am so sorry.” he repeated for lack of anything more meaningful to say. The words seemed hollow and ineffectual._

_Tremors were still tracing their way through Dean's body as he attempted to calm himself. “Yeah,” he whispered ruefully. “Me too.” Dean abruptly turned away, breaking Cas's hold and laying back on the pillows propped on the headboard. His face was tight, green eyes closed forehead creased. “I kind of just wanna sleep, Cas.” he mumbled softly._

“ _Of course, Dean.” Cas whispered. He reached out and smoothed a hand down Dean's arm. “Rest. We can talk more tomorrow, if you like.” He placed both hands on the tangled sheets and pushed himself into a half crouch as he raised himself from the bed, stopping when he felt a strong grip on his forearm. Turning slightly, he watched as Dean's green eyes, flicked to catch his gaze, then fall back to the fingers wrapped around the white cloth of the shirt he had neglected to remove before falling into an exhausted slumber the night before._

“ _Stay?” the whispered plea echoed in the darkness of the room._

“ _Of course.” Cas replied quietly, moving toward the tattered red armchair situated in the corner of the bedroom where he had spent the last three nights in broken slumber. He paused when Dean's grip tightened._

“ _No.” Cas's eyes gripped Dean's in the muted light of the clock by his head. “Here,” his words were whispered so low that Castiel had to strain to hear them._

“ _If you wish, Dean.” Cas replied, a frown creasing his forehead. He gently pried Dean's fingers from his arm and walked around to the other side of the bed, sliding under the white sheets and turning toward the other man. He reached out and placed a hand gently on Dean's bicep. “Go to sleep Dean. I'm here if you need anything.”_

“ _M'kay, Cas.” Dean murmured, already fading into a deep slumber. Cas frowned into the darkness, his eyes tracing over the lines of Dean's face. Sighing, he closed his own eyes, and settled deeper into the pillows, allowing sleep to overtake him as well._

_He fell asleep with his hand still gripping Dean's bicep._

Dean rolled over onto his back, legs tangled in his bedsheets, his mind still murky with sleep. He blinked slowly in the now bright room, wondering blearily why there was a feeling of dread filling him, laying heavy on his chest. He took mental stock of his healing injuries, tentatively prodding at his eye and lips. They were less swollen today, which was a very good thing. He was going to have to drag his sorry ass out of bed and into the shop this morning. No way he'd make his shift at the Roadhouse, but at least Bobby's would be a go. He could hide his face in the bowels of a car, not have to worry about scaring off customers.

The Roadhouse. Dean frowned as he tried to recall why the thought of the Roadhouse filled him with shame.

He groaned as the memories of earlier that morning came rushing back to him. Cas, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking beyond exhausted, asking him questions he didn't want to answer, but found himself doing regardless.

Spilling to Cas about Lisa. And Ben. Fucking crying on the other mans shoulder. And then, _then_ begging the guy to stay with him? In the same fucking bed? What the fuck? Dean slung an arm over his eyes, dreading actually leaving this room and facing those eyes. Those fucking blue eyes that looked into him, actually seeing him for fuck sakes.

Jesus Christ. Dean thought. I fucking cried on the guy? His face flooded with embarrassment as he remembers clinging to Castiel's shirt, bunching the fabric in his fists as he sobbed uncontrollably on his shoulder, soaking it with his tears and snot.

Dean shivers as he remembers the feel of Castiels hands as they stroked his back, tangling in his hair as Cas gripped him tight to his chest. He recalls the feeling of Cas's wet breath on his cheek as he whispered nonsense in his ear, pressing soft kisses on his temple with a soft groan. His dick twitched with interest as he remembered the warmth of Castiels embrace, the hardness of his chest as Dean clung to him. He'd been too upset last night to notice any of these things, but was sure as hell remembering them now.

Rolling on his side and pushing himself into a seated position, Dean threw his legs over the side of the mattress and folded in on himself, his elbows resting on his knees, head cradled in his hands. What the everloving fuck was he thinking last night? He didn't tell anyone that shit. Ben and Lisa were his responsibility, no one else's. That was the one fucking thing Dean was good at, taking care of his responsibilities.

With a resigned sigh, Dean pushed himself off the bed and crossed the room to his closet, removing a clean pair of jeans and a worn grey t-shirt. Dean didn't know if Cas was up or not, but there was no way he was facing the other man wearing only his boxers again. Pulling his pants on roughly, he buttoned his fly and yanked the shirt over his head. Feeling slightly more secure with clothes on, Dean steadied himself with a deep breath and started out of his bedroom, toward the kitchen.

He placed one shaking hand on the door and with only a second hesitation, pushed it open. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, so all he saw was Castiel's feet encased in (what else) black dress socks. Damn, he thought to himself. Of course he wasn't fucking lucky enough that Cas was still asleep.

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas's voice was tinged with concern. Dean's spine stiffened at the soft sound, a thread of anger winding it's way through his chest. There was no way he was going through this. He needed to just forget last night even happened. He wasn't going to deal with Cas's pity. He didn't do pity from anyone, much less the guy who could give him a raging hard on with one low pitched word.

Schooling his features, Dean squared his shoulders and raised his eyes to the man who was staring intently at him, concern etched into his features. “Mornin' Cas,” he replied with false brightness. “Wasn't sure if I'd see you this morning or not. Since you're up, I'm heading into the shop. I imagine we're running a bit low on supplies, so I'll leave some cash on the table by the front door, if you don't mind picking up a few things? I can make a list if you need me to.” He carried on as he reached into the cupboard to retrieve his favourite blue coffee mug. He busied himself by pouring the hot liquid, inhaling the moist fumes deeply. Turning back to where Cas was sitting, he rested one elbow on the laminate counter, lounging, his feet crossed at his ankles. He watched as the coffee rippled in his cup as he blew softly on it, waiting for it to cool enough to drink.

“How are you feeling this morning, Dean?” Cas asked softly. “Your painkillers are in the bathroom cabinet. If you need them.” Castiel placed his cup on the table and turned to face Dean fully.

“I'm, um...I feel pretty good, actually,” Dean's voice was hesitant, unsure. “Listen, Cas,” he started, stopping as Cas raised a hand, palm facing Dean.

“Dean. It's fine.” Cas cut him off. “I understand that this is uncomfortable for you.” He raised himself from the chair and crossed the short distance to stand in front of Dean, pushing into his personal space. “I want to thank you, Dean. For trusting me. I know how difficult that is for you. It means a great deal to me that you were able to tell me about Ben.” Dean's eyes closed as he inhaled sharply, a momentary wash of pain crossing his face.

A gentle hand landed on Dean's shoulder, warm and strong before he felt Castiels thumb running lightly across his collarbone. His eyes flew open, green caught with blue as Cas gazed at him softly, searching Dean's tight face.

Taking another deep breath, Dean schooled his features and slid his familiar cocky grin into place. Injecting his voice with his usual mock bravado, Dean chuckled easily, shrugging the same shoulder in an attempt to dislodge the hand. “Momentary lack of judgement. Won't happen again,” he smirked. Glancing down at the hand that refused to let go it's grip, Dean missed the flash of anger in Castiels eyes.

Castiel moved further into Dean's personal space with one menacing step forward. Now straddling Dean's outstretched legs, he reached out and placed both hands on the countertop, once again fully surrounding Dean, preventing him from moving. Leaning in until his face was so close Dean could feel his hot breath caress his lips, Castiel caught Dean's eyes with a dark glare.

“Dean,” he practically growled. “Do not make light of last night. I won't let you regress and try to pretend that nothing happened.” His gaze dropped to Dean's mouth, slack with shock. “You are the most infuriating man I have ever met.” He murmured absently, shaking his head slightly, his eyes tracing the movement of Dean's tongue as it flicked out to moisten his bottom lip. “You hide behind a persona that you have created to keep people at a distance,” Castiel dragged his hot gaze away from Dean's teeth as they worried at his lip. “I won't allow you to push me away, not now.”

“Cas,” Dean breathed. He couldn't think properly with Cas standing so close, his breath fanning on Dean's cheek. Sweet Jesus, he thought to himself, a thread of something other than panic winding it's way through his belly and into his groin. He groaned inwardly, feeling the press of Castiels thighs on either side of his outstretched legs, the warmth of strong arms, the feel of them almost embracing him as they rested on either side of his body. He ached with the desire to feel those same arms wrap around him, pull him roughly against the hard chest that was mere inches from his own, the planes of their bodies slotting together. He knew it would be perfect, that they would fit together seamlessly.

The sharpness of his desire shocked Dean. He may be an easy lay, but the he'd never felt the overwhelming need to touch, to feel that was coursing through him now. With all his other partners it was easy, take them home, fuck them senseless, make sure they came and send them on their way. It was great, definitely, but almost perfunctory. He knew what to do to make the women writhe with desire, moan his name in the throes of passion, but he always felt slightly apart from them.

Now though, the want thrumming through his body was practically overwhelming. He wanted nothing more than to touch, to taste, to devour and be consumed. He clenched his fists on the counter to stop himself from reaching out and just taking what his body was demanding he should have.

“Cas, please,” Dean groaned quietly, not sure what he was asking. He turned his face into the callused palm that cupped his cheek, closing his eyes, revelling in the simple touch, more tender than he'd ever felt in his miserable existence.

He stopped thinking and with a keen of want surged forward and took what he'd been aching for since the moment he saw Cas on his doorstep.

With almost frantic need, Dean pressed his lips against the other man's mouth, his hands coming up to grip Cas's shoulders, scrambling to find purchase. For one brief moment, as Cas stiffened in shock, Dean's heart stuttered to a stop, thinking he had gone too far. I mean it would make more sense that he had read Cas wrong. But no, in the space of one heartbeat to the next, Cas's hands were off the counter, one arm wrapping around Dean's shoulder, pulling him tight with a growl of pure need, the other tangling in his hair, gripping the short strands tightly, pulling his head to the side with a force that weakened Dean's legs. He would have cringed at the sound that escaped his mouth at the pull of his hair, the pain that shot through his scalp if he hadn't loved it so much.

“You like that?” Cas growled against Dean's mouth. He closed his fist tighter on Dean's scalp, his eyes lighting up, a smirk crossing his lips as Dean groaned loudly at the increased pressure.

“God, yes,” Dean panted. Like it? Dean thought almost hysterically to himself. Sweet Jesus. Cas brought his other hand up to Dean's hair and wrapped it into the silky strands, making fists on both sides of his tender scalp, tugging with the exact amount of pressure to practically bring Dean to his knees. Bringing their mouths together again, Dean opened his lips as he felt the tip of Castiels tongue running along the seam, allowing him entrance, losing all thought at the sweet slide of their tongues.

Dean had no idea how long they stood, his back pressed almost painfully into the edge of the counter, his hands moving frantically over Castiel's muscled back, pliant in the other mans arms. He allowed Cas to position his head for better access to his neck, shivering as he licked a wet line up the tendons that stood out at the awkward angle. He couldn't stop the groan that was ripped from him as he felt soft suction on his heated skin, could feel the blood pooling at the surface knowing there was no way to hide it today from his co-workers, not caring a bit. It was Cas's mark, branding Dean. He brought his hands to Cas' hips, pulling them closer until their buttons clicked, not able to stop himself from grinding into the other man, loving the feel of the Cas's hard cock through the material of his jeans. Knowing that he wanted Dean as much as he wanted Cas was a heady thought, his fingers clenching on his hips.

Cas's head fell to Dean's shoulder as he continued to move his hips, both of them hard with need. He ran open mouthed kissed across Dean's cheek before bringing their foreheads together, damp with sweat. Placing his hands on Dean's hips, Cas pushed back slightly, putting space between them. Dean whimpered at the loss of contact, blinding reaching out to pull the other man back, lost in the need to touch.

“No.” Cas ground out firmly, swatting Dean's hands away from his hips. He sighed as Dean continued to grasp desperately. He wrapped both wrists in strong fingers, bringing both behind Dean's back, trapping him against the counter, holding him easily as Dean's eyes shot wide. Sweet fuck Cas could manhandle Dean so fucking easily.

Dean blinked slowly as the cloudiness of his brain started to clear. “Cas?” he rasped, pulling slightly at the hands that were holding him firmly in place. With his arms locked behind him, Cas's legs straddling his own, Dean was effectively trapped. And fuck if that didn't send a thrill of anticipation straight to his already throbbing dick.

He raised his eyes, searching Cas's for some sort of clue as to why the other ma stopped. Jesus, Dean could see the outline of Cas's cock straining against the front of his dress pants. “Cas, why?” confusion coloured Dean's voice as he leaned forward as much as he could against the restraints of his arms to press an urgent, open mouthed kiss on the other man's jaw, practically whining as Cas pulled back sharply.

“Dean. Stop.” that fucking voice scratched out of Castiel, his eyes dark, the lines of his face taut with suppressed need. His fingers tightened on Dean's wrists as he put as much distance as he could between the two of them. “Dean, look at me,” Cas ordered firmly.

Always one to snap to attention when an order was being given, especially in a low, firm voice that Castiel had mastered to a fucking art form, Dean's green eyes flew up to meet Cas's, still practically panting with need.

“Good.” Cas breathed softly. “Now, Dean, I am going to release your hands. I need you to simply place them at your sides, understood?” Cas's gaze was steady with intent, not wavering for even an instant.

Dean nodded slowly, instantly missing the heat of Castiel's grip on his wrists, bringing his arms slowly around the front of his trembling body, rubbing absently as the redness before dropping them to his sides.

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas's voice was firmer, more in control now. He took in a steadying breath and stepped away, out of Dean's space. Dean wanted to moan at the loss of contact, shivered at the chill from the lack of warmth from Cas's body, but his senses were coming back to him and he cringed at the thought of making his need even more obvious.

Running a shaking hand through his short hair, Dean's eyes dropped to the blue linoleum flooring, frowning at the drops of coffee that had splashed on the surface, small dots of liquid fanning out beside his feet.

“I, um...” Dean stuttered. “I'm going to go have a shower.” He needed out. Out of the kitchen, away from Cas's dark gaze. Desperately. What the hell had just happened? He thought wildly, his breaths coming faster now, as a sense of panic was taking hold. He had basically thrown himself at the guy for fuck sakes. Never mind that Cas had responded almost as wildly as Dean, the fact of the matter is, Cas was the one who came to his senses first, leaving Dean panting and fucking pawing at him. His face flushed with shame as he turned to rush out of the kitchen, to see if he could find some shred of self respect in the shower.

He stopped abruptly at the hand the pressed into his bicep ,curling around the muscle there, forcing Dean to spin in his tracks, meeting the hot blue gaze that filled his sight. “Dean.” Cas started, his forehead furrowed as he searched Dean's face.

“Cas, let go of my fucking arm. Please.” Dean practically begged. He needed distance right now. He had to get himself together. This...this couldn't happen. No matter how much Dean wanted it, regardless of the need thrumming through his body. Now that he had his senses back and could think properly without the press of Castiels hands on his body, his wet tongue tracing the tendons of his neck, Dean knew that this couldn't be.

Dean's eyes fell to the fingers that were wrapped tightly around his arm, willing the other man to release his grip and allow him to escape. With a tired sigh, Castiel complied. “As you wish, Dean.” His voice was soft in the room. He sounded almost disappointed and when Dean raised his eyes to catch Cas's he could see that in his face. His mouth was pursed into an almost pout, as he shook his head slightly. “But Dean. We will talk this evening.” he raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Understood?”

“Yeah, whatever dude.” Dean turned and practically ran out of the kitchen, leaving Cas standing in the middle of the room, his hands tucked in the pockets of this black dress pants. No fucking way was that going to happen, Dean thought to himself. He'd figure a way to avoid Cas, maybe he'd just crash at Ash's tonight. All he knew was there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to be sitting down and fucking talking with Cas about what? His feelings? Dean Winchester did not talk about his fucking feelings. Whatever this was between the two of them was just going to have to be dealt with. And Dean's favoured way of doing that was to repress it and drink it away.

With that thought in mind, Dean stepped into the bathroom, peeling his tshirt from his body, stepping out of his jeans and started the shower. That sounded like a fucking excellent idea. Sweat it out at Bobby's then drink to forget. That was Dean's way. Stepping under the warm spray, Dean nodded to himself.

Tequila was sounding really fucking good right about now.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking around and for your comments on this fic. You all are so inspiring. These two idiots have been giving me a lot of trouble this week, but I think I have it worked out now. I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

Dean was up to his elbows in the guts of a 2002 Ford when Bobby tapped him on the shoulder. He was so completely lost in his thoughts and memories of the night before and the events of the morning, he hadn't heard the other man's approach. 

“Jesus, man” Dean grumbled as he straightened himself, his hand over his racing heart. “Give a guy some fucking warning next time.” 

Bobby scowled at Dean from under the ever present and, frankly, filthy ball cap. Honest to God, Dean had never seen Bobby without the oil stained and frayed cap pulled low on his forehead. He entertained the possibility that Bobby had been born this way, chuckling to himself at he mental image of a naked, screaming baby with a tiny, filthy baseball cap situated on it's head in the place of the soft wisps of hair. 

“What the hell are you laughin' at, boy?” Bobby groused. God, that scowl was as much a part of Bobby as the damned ball cap, Dean thought. Honestly, he could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Bobby actually smile. 

Bobby's presence had been a part of Dean's life for longer than he could actually remember. He was a constant, a pillar of strength that Dean had leaned on throughout his life. His earliest memories of Bobby were of him sitting across their kitchen table, hand wrapped around a beer, scowling at Dean's mom and dad, growling at them that he didn't want another goddamn woman in his life. He'd had one true love (not that Bobby ever called his deceased wife that, but it was painfully obvious that he had loved her to distraction and would never fully recover from her death) and that was more than one man deserved. He was perfectly content with his auto shop, thank you very much and he would like them to stop sticking their noses in his business. 

A stronger memory, one that would be burned in Dean's mind forever was the night that Bobby stood beside that same table, one hand on John's trembling shoulder as his father sobbed into his folded arms, moving the bottle of Jack Daniels away from Dean's father as he tried to drink away the pain of losing Mary to fire that had consumed her car after the accident. There were many nights to come where Bobby played the same role, but that night, once the police officer placed his cap back on his head and walked slowly to the door, after ripping a hole in their lives that would never be replaced; that was the painful memory that Dean would carry with him. The emptiness in his father's face as he slid to the floor, the moan that was ripped from his throat as he tore at his hair, the sobs that trembled through him, that image would live with Dean for the rest of his life. He'd been only 4 when his mother had been hit by the semi that ran the red light, taking her away from her family far too early, but he would never be able to forget the terror that had ripped through his small frame, watching the strongest man he'd ever known fall apart in front of his eyes. 

Dean had never gotten his father back after that night. John, unable to live with the thought of losing Mary, spent the next years of his life finding the bottom of one bottle after another. He drank himself to unconsciousness night after night, soothing his aching heart with booze, finding release in the women he met at whatever dingy bar he'd managed to pour himself into. 

Bobby had taken over as Sam and Dean's surrogate father when it became apparent that John wasn't going to pull himself out of the overwhelming depression that had taken hold after Mary's death. He tried to be there as much as he could for the two boys who hadn't simply lost their mother that night, but their father as well. Dean would never forget, never be able to repay the scruffy, crotchety old man for giving them at least a semblance of a family, of fatherly love. He may not be blood, but Bobby was family, he was the closest thing that Dean had to a father and he loved him more than he was willing to admit to anyone. 

“Nothin' old man.” Dean chuckled, wincing slightly at the stern look he could see on Bobby's face. Here it comes, he thought unhappily. 

“So, what the hell kind of stupid are you, anyway, boy?” Bobby grunted. “I told your friend that I didn't want you in here for at least a week. You need time to heal ya idjit. You can't take that kind of beating and be in here three days later.” Bobby's face was beet red by this point. He was even worse than Dean at showing his feelings. Bobby much preferred to insult and poke fun as his way of showing his love. Sarcasm and beer, that was Bobby's way. 

“I'm fine, Bobby,” Dean attempted a reassuring tone. The last thing he needed now was to have Bobby go all soft and parental on him. That was just plain wrong.

“Yer not fine, boy. Any idiot with eyes can see that,” Bobby grumbled. “I'll be damned if I'll see you hurt yourself more working in here, Dean.” Bobby pulled his ball cap off his head and ran a palm over his thinning hair. “Look,” he continued softly after pulling the cap back down over his forehead. “I know you're a hard worker, Dean. I get that you need the money. But you can't be here, boy. That face of yours is going to scare off the customers.” He turned away and started walking back toward the desk that was strewn with papers. 

How in hell Bobby managed to keep any appointments straight was beyond anyone's comprehension. Dean had tried sorting the paper work one day, only to get slap on the back of his head and a mumbled “Don't touch my stuff, boy. I won't be able to find anything” 

“Git your sorry ass out of my shop, boy. I don't want you back in here for at least two more days.” He sighed heavily as he caught Dean's stricken eyes. “You need to rest, Dean. Go home,” he added softly, “go to bed and heal. The cars will still be here when you git back. Now,” he pointed to the dingy door of the garage, “Get the hell out of my shop.” 

Dean wiped his hands on the rag that he had tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, frowning at the one man he could truly call his father. “Bobby, seriously, man. I'm fine.” he objected as he fumbled the filthy rag back into his pocket. “C'mon. Just put me in the back, let me change oil or whatever today.” he pleaded. Shit, he couldn't take another day with no pay. “I swear, I won't talk to a single customer. You won't see me anywhere near the front.” He focused on Bobby's face, torn with indecision, practically begging him with his eyes. “Please?” Dean ducked his head, focusing on his sneakers as he rubbed his hands nervously against the denim of his thighs.

Bobby huffed an aggrieved sigh. “Fine,” He pointed a finger at Dean menacingly. “But I better not see your ugly mug anywhere near this desk today.” he grumbled. 

A bright smile flashed across Dean's still bruised face. “You got it Bobby. I swear,” he raised one greasy hand, palm facing outward, “You won't have to look at me again today.” Turning on a heel Dean worked his way to the back of the shop. 

Unpinning the work order sheet that hung from a cork board on the back wall of the shop, Dean let his eyes run over the jobs for the day, looking for anything that would keep him busy and keep him hidden at the same time. He let out a small breath of relief that Bobby had let him stay. He knew damned well that this was a make work project for him. These were small, menial jobs that could be done by anyone in between the major work. Bobby certainly didn't need one person dedicated to them, but Dean sure as hell wasn't going to argue. He needed to make up the money he'd lost. 

Dean rubbed his hand over the back of his neck as he pinned the sheet back on the board. Heading toward the storeroom to gather what he needed for the brake job that was waiting in the bay, Dean smoothed the palms of his hands over the rough denim covering his thighs. He was already sore, his bruised ribs protesting being upright and active this soon, but Dean ignored the discomfort. He needed to do this. Ben and Lisa were depending on him. And if there was one thing Dean was fucking good at, it was taking care of people. 

And besides, there was a bottle of tequila waiting for him at the Roadhouse. That thought alone was enough to help him make it through this shitty day.

*****

Dean blinked blearily as he placed the now empty shot glass back onto the glossy surface of the Roadhouse bar. Leaning heavily on one hand, he motioned with his other to Ash to bring him another. 

“No way, kemosabe.” Ash replied, shaking his head, his ridiculously long hair swishing across his back as he made his way over to where Dean was struggling to stay upright on his stool. “You, my friend, are cut off.” He rolled his eyes as Dean's head slipped off his hand and thwacked heavily on the surface of the bar. Holding out one hand, palm facing up, he crooked his fingers in Dean's face, causing him to go almost crosseyed in an attempt to focus. “Hand 'em over.” Ash's voice was firm. He sighed heavily at Dean's look of confusion, leaning forward slightly to ensure that he had Dean's full attention. “Your keys, compadre. You're not not driving out of here. Give 'em up.”

Ash's words finally worked their way through Dean's alcohol sodden brain. Almost falling off the stool as he leaned back to search the pocket of his leather jacket. “S'okay, Ash” Dean slurred. “Wasn't gonna drive anyway.” he dropped the keys into Ash's outstretched hand. Groaning, he laid his head on the smooth cool surface of the bar. “Don't feel so good,” he mumbled.

Ash chuckled softly. “No doubt. Don't stress though, I already called your bro. He'll be here uno momento to drag your sorry ass home.”

“Kay” Dean sighed deeply, closing his eyes, trying to focus his murky thoughts. He remembered driving here in his '67 Chevy Impala after leaving Bobby's. He could recall sitting his ass down on the same stool he was currently trying not to slide off and ordering a series of shots. Around the 5th time he threw his head back,, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat and turn to a warmth that blossomed in his chest, things start to get a bit...unclear. 

There's a hazy memory of a shapely blonde squirming her way onto Dean's lap. Dean could still feel her lips on his neck, sucking a bruise into his skin, opposite from the mark Cas had left earlier that day. He groaned as he recalled her running her hands under his shirt, her scarlet tipped nails raking lines into his skin. His dick gave a twitch as he remembered how her breasts had pressed into his chest, her back arching as he swiped his tongue along the roof of her mouth, his fingers digging bruises into her soft hips.   
The problem was, Dean couldn't remember what had happened to...Tawny? Yeah, he was pretty sure that was the name she had whispered into his ear. Dean raised his head and looked around the dimly lit bar, narrowing his eyes to try to focus his gaze. Where did she go?

“Dean.” 

Dean started as a low pitched voice came out of fucking nowhere. A hand grasped his arm firmly as he started sliding off the barstool. 

“The fuck are you doing here?” Dean growled, turning his head to see Cas standing over him, steadying Dean with his hand, his blue eyes narrowed menacingly as he glowered at the drunken man trying to work his way back onto the stool. 

“Sam called. The bartender called to inform him that his brother was too drunk to drive home and would need assistance.” His hot gaze raked over Dean's slouched form with a look of resignation. “It would seem he wasn't mistaken.”

“Still doesn't answer my question, man. The fuck are you doing here?” Dean leaned back as he attempted to fix Cas with a glare. In his inebriated state, it came out looking more like a pout. “Was trying to avoid you.” Dean groused. 

“That much is patently obvious Dean. Unfortunately for you, Sam was in the middle of an emergency meeting with a client and wasn't able to come drag you home. He called your apartment.” Castiel lowered his voice as he leaned in to place his mouth beside Dean's ear. “You have lipstick covering your neck.” he ground out, his hot breath caressing Dean's cheek. 

Dean pulled back from Cas, smirking. “Yeah,” he slurred. “Tawny, man. She's hot.” He frowned, turning to peruse the bar once again. “Don't know where she went, though.” Fuck, he was sure he was getting laid tonight. He needed that, needed the release, the mindless fuck of two strangers who don't know each other and don't give two shits either way. 

Dean heard a deep sigh and turned his gaze back to Castiel, finding his narrowed gaze focused on him. The hand on his arm tightened. “She's gone, Dean. Now, come with me. I'm taking you home.” Dean worked his way unsteadily to his feet as Castiel tugged on the arm he was holding. He dropped his gaze to the fingers gripping his bicep, trying to twist out of the grip. 

“Let go, Cas.” he muttered. “I don't wanna go with you.”

“That is simply too bad, Dean. I promised your brother I would ensure you were home safely tonight. I intend to keep my word.” Cas tightened his grip and pulled Dean closer. “Don't test me right now, Dean.” his voice was menacing as his eyes bore into Dean's. “I am not very happy with you.”

“The fuck did I do?” Dean's eyes widened on an intake of breath. Jesus fuck, Cas was hot. His face was mere inches from Dean's and he fought the urge to grab Castiel's shirt and close the distance. Dean's eyes flicked to Cas's mouth, pursed in anger and remembered the taste, the texture of Cas's lips as they pressed into his this morning in the kitchen. Groaning lowly, he felt his body sway closer to Cas, not meaning to, but not being able to resist the pull. Grabbing at Cas's hips, he pressed their groins together, eyes shooting wide at the sensation. He watched as Cas's eyes darkened, his mouth falling open slightly. Good, Dean thought smugly to himself. He needed to see that Cas was affected by this...thing between them, as much as Dean was. 

Strong hands pushed at Dean's shoulders, putting space between their bodies. Dean whined but dropped his hands from Cas's hips, not wanting a repeat of the morning's events, at least not in public. He dropped his head to Cas's shoulder, and murmured “I really fucking hate you, man.”

A dark chuckle rumbled through Castiel's chest as his hand came to rest on the back of Dean's neck, fingers trailing through the short strands. “I know, Dean.” he whispered, resting his cheek on Dean's temple. “Now, let me take you home.” He pulled back and dipped his head to catch Dean's eyes. “This is becoming a habit, I think. My taking care of you.” Cas's eye had lost their heat, were now edged with softness as his hand carded through Dean's hair. 

“Don't need you to take care of me.” Dean grumbled, turning his head slightly into the touch, relishing the soft tug of Castiel's fingers. 

“You could have fooled me.” Cas's tone was dry. “I've known you for a total of 4 days and from what I can see, you are a walking disaster.” He removed his hand and placed it on Dean's waist, squeezing lightly. Nodding his head toward the door of the Roadhouse, he stepped back and turned Dean with a hand to his shoulder. “Let's go.” he stated firmly. 

Dean stumbled as Cas gave a slight push toward the door. Throwing a glare over his shoulder, Dean reluctantly started toward the exit. “Oh,shit.” he stopped. At Cas's quizzical glance, Dean pointed vaguely in the direction of the bar. “Ash took my keys.” 

Nodding in approval, Cas fixed Dean with a steady look. He pointed one finger and raised his eyebrows. “Wait here. I will be right back. Do not wander off, Dean.” Cas warned.

“Not gonna.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Man, you're pushy.” Dean watched as Castiel turned and walked back toward the bar, admiring his trim hips encased in black dress pants. When Cas reached the bar, he leaned forward slightly, pulling the fabric tighter on his ass and motioned for Ash, who was busily mixing drinks for the couple at the far end of the bar. Raising one finger, Ash gestured for Cas to wait. 

Dean started in surprise, looking down to see scarlet tipped fingers wrapping themselves around his waist, felt soft lips caress the edge of his ear. 

“Where you goin', sugar?” Dean groaned as Tawny's fingers traced their way up his stomach, scratching lightly across his nipples. “You weren't leaving without me, were you?” her tongue flicked against Dean's earlobe, pulling it in to bite between even white teeth. 

“Ahh..” Dean rasped. “T-Tawny, right?” he laughed uneasily. 

“Don't tell me you forgot my name already?” she purred his ear. Her tongue traced the shell of Dean's ear as she laughed huskily. “You'll have to make that one up to me.” One hand moved back down Dean's stomach, stopping to play with the button of his jeans, before moving lower to cup his erection. Dean's head dropped back on a groan, his eyes sliding shut. 

“Jesus,” Dean breathed. Taking in a deep, steadying breath, Dean grabbed the slim wrist that was still moving over the front of his jeans and pulled it away, grimacing at the loss of pressure. Ignoring the whine in his ear, Dean stepped out of Tawny's embrace. Turning he shot the disappointed woman his most charming smile, reaching out to trace a finger along her jawline. “Sorry, Tawny. I'll, uh..I'll have to take a raincheck on that.” Sighing inwardly at the soft moue she made, he turned, almost knocking himself off balance and glanced toward the bar. Thank God, Cas still had his back to Dean, hadn't seen the exchange with the busty blonde. Adjusting himself, Dean weaved his way through the tables until he was standing behind Cas, who was still leaning on the bar, one foot on the raised level that held the stools, the other placed firmly on the dusty hardwood floor. Letting his eyes roam appreciatively over his form, Dean stopped, weaving on the spot. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Fuck, he thought. I really need to sober up.

He stood there for a few moments, just staring at Cas's ass, until he he saw Ash approach Cas at the bar. Nodding to Dean over Cas's shoulder, he leaned in to hear what the other man was saying. Ash's eyes shot to Dean and he raised his eyebrows questioningly. Catching the exchange, Cas looked back to where Dean was standing, a frown creasing his forehead. Dean stepped forward, nodding to Ash. “Yeah, man, it's ok,” he said wearily. “Ash, Cas. Cas, this is Ash, my co-worker and general pain in my ass.” Looking back to Ash, he said quickly, “Cas is Sam's friend from college. He's, uh, he's staying with me for a week or so until he finds a place to live.”

“Uh huh.” Ash nodded. “Whatever, dude. Just so long as you get home in one piece.” he dropped the keys into Cas's outstretched hand. 

Closing his fingers around the silver keys, Cas thanked Ash and turned back to face Dean. Reaching out, he gripped Dean's arm and guided him back through the tables. His eyebrow raised in surprise at the vicious “Asshole” that was hissed at Dean as they passed Tawny's table. He shot a sidelong glance at Dean, his mouth twitching in amusement. “Friend of yours?” he drawled.

“Fuck off, Cas,” Dean growled, bristling at the soft laugh that shook the other man's shoulders. “And let go of my fucking arm, will you?” he twisted away from the grip, almost falling over at the suddenness of his own movement. “Shit!” he ground out as he caught himself of the back of a chair. 

Throwing a dark look at Cas who was reaching out again to grip Dean's arm, he shook his head, watching as Cas raised his hands in front of himself, stepping away from where Dean was still leaning heavily on the wooden chair. “Not a fucking word.” Dean hissed as he stumbled past Castiel, who wasn't even trying to hide his amusement at Dean's faltering steps. 

Nodding slightly, Cas motioned to the exit, following behind Dean, wondering what it was about this man that appealed to him so much. He had been furious with Dean when he entered the bar. Angry about the fact that he'd been woken up and called out in the middle of the night, yes. But mostly because he knew damned well why Dean was here, drinking himself into a stupor again. It was obvious he was hiding, from Castiel, from the emotionally charged atmosphere of the night before. And from the scene in the kitchen. 

Cas's face warmed as he recalled how Dean had pressed against him, frantically gripping his shirt as he allowed Cas to lick into his mouth. He had been slightly shocked at how quickly both of them lost control. It had been a herculean effort to push Dean away, to put distance between them. Even harder when Dean had continued reaching for him, He knew, though, that Dean would need time to process, to work through the guards that he had let down the night before. He understood that even though it was obvious there was a great deal of sexual tension between them, that Dean was going to need space to come to terms with it. Castiel was determined to give him that space, regardless of how difficult it was obviously going to be. Dean was almost irresistible, drawing Castiel in with a force that he hadn't been expecting. 

He smiled softly as he watched Dean stumble through the door and into the night air. He was definitely an unexpected turn of events. Castiel, however, was nothing if not flexible. His smile widened as he thought about how much enjoyment he was going to get out of tearing down all of Dean's defences. He hadn't looked forward to something this much in a very long time.


	7. Chapter 7

Cas was trying to kill him.

That was really the only logical explanation. 

After dragging his sorry ass home from the Roadhouse three weeks ago, it seemed as though Cas had made it his personal mission to drive Dean out of his ever loving mind. 

Dean threw an arm over his eyes as he fidgeted in the twisted sheets of his bed. Hell, it wasn't Cas's fault that Dean couldn't look at the other man without wanting to beg him to throw him up against the wall. Cas wasn't at fault for not realizing that the way his waistcoat emphasized his trim waist and broad chest made Dean's mouth water and induced fantasies of pushing the buttons through the holes and sliding it off Cas's shoulders before turning his attention to the smaller, pearly buttons of his dress shirt. 

In Dean's fantasies, the shirts didn't fare as well as the waistcoat. Envisioning the buttons pinging off the floor after ripping the shirt open so he could finally, finally touch the skin of the man who was slowly driving him insane with want, Dean groaned again as his other hand slid down his naked torso to scratch lightly at the hair framing his aching cock. 

Tracing lower, he moaned softly as he wrapped his fingers around himself, squeezing lightly before running his hand up his length, pausing to smear the pre-come that was gathering at the tip. He increased the pace of his hand as he imagined running his open mouth over Cas's bared chest, flicking his hardened nipple with a tongue before sliding down his torso to the waist of his dress pants. Panting heavily as his hand raced up and down his cock, Dean imagined the gravelly moan that would tear from Cas as he lowered the zipper to take out his cock before lapping at the head, tonguing the slit, then swallowing him in one movement. 

The sound that Dean imagined Castiel would make when the head of his cock hit the back of Dean's throat caused him to arch off the bed as he found his release. A ragged “Cas” was torn from him as strips of white covered his stomach. 

Falling back onto the sheets, Dean groaned to himself. This wasn't working. He had jacked off every morning the past three weeks and it wasn't enough. It wasn't ever going to be enough. His hands itched to actually touch Cas's skin, to dig his fingers into the other man's hips as Cas thrust into his mouth. Dean wanted to feel Cas's fingers tighten in his hair as he held Dean's head in place, watching his cock slide in and out of Dean's open lips, his own mouth falling slack at the vision of Dean on his knees, open and pliant, groaning at the feel of his cock sliding over his tongue. 

“Fuck!” Dean ground out as he leaned over the side of the bed to grab a towel that was laying in a heap on the floor. Swiping angrily at the come that covered his taut stomach, Dean wondered what he had ever done to deserve this type of slow torture. 

Ever since that night three weeks ago, things had changed. Hell, Dean wasn't even sure why Castiel was still living in the spare bedroom. The one time Dean had asked, Cas had just looked up from the paper he was perusing with his morning coffee, smiled slightly and murmured something about not being able to find anything suitable. That was it. Dean never brought it up again because, well, hell, he wasn't really all that upset about finding Cas sitting at the kitchen table every morning.

And he sure as hell wasn't going to complain about Cas taking over the cooking. Sweet fuck could that man cook. Dean had discovered that the morning after Cas dragged him out of the Roadhouse. After laying in bed for at least a half an hour, desperately trying to ignore the ice pick that was drilling into his eye, he realized there was more than the scent of coffee in the air. Rolling out of bed and stumbling into the bathroom to kill whatever it was that had decided to take up residence in his mouth last night, Dean started at his reflection in the mirror. Turning his face side to side, he nodded as he took in the improvement he could see. Still swollen and bruised, yes, but much better.

After pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants that slung low on his trim hips, Dean worked his way into the kitchen. Standing at the stove was Castiel, already showered and dressed, holding a spatula in one hand, stirring the yellow mound of eggs in front of him. 

“Cas, man, that smells amazing,” Dean croaked as he reached for the coffee. “You never mentioned you could cook, dude.” Taking a sip of the warm liquid, Dean closed his eyes in bliss, feeling the soothing warmth work it's way through his body. 

Cas hummed quietly as he poked at the bacon that was frying in a pan beside the eggs. “We haven't actually had much opportunity to talk, Dean.” Cas had smiled gently at him, one black eyebrow raised slightly as he took in Dean's half naked form resting easily on the counter beside him. 

Dean's face flushed and his eyes fell to the floor. “Uh,” he laughed self consciously, “Yeah, I guess you're right. But dude. Seriously, you can actually, like seriously cook? Or are you just a breakfast guy?” Dean was getting a bit excited. Sure, he could cook, if you counted Kraft Dinner and hotdogs as cooking. If it came in a box, Dean was good. Except for burgers. Dean was the king of mouthwatering burgers. Dean's burgers were a thing of beauty; thick and juicy, seasoned to perfection. His mouth started watering just thinking about them.

A soft chuckle brought Dean's eyes up to meet Castiel's. “Yes, Dean,” he stated as leaned one hip against the edge of the stove, laying the spatula down on the side of the pan. “I am quite adept at cooking.” He dipped his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. “I can only assume from the state of your cupboards and fridge that this is not a skill you have mastered.” Pushing himself away from the stove, Cas moved lithely across the small room, pushing his way into Dean's space as he reached over his head to open the cupboard door and remove plates. He dropped his gaze to Dean's shocked expression, smirked slightly and turned back to the table, leaving Dean wide eyed and breathing heavily from exposure to the sheer heat of Cas's body pressed up against him.

And that shit just kept happening. 

Over the past three weeks, Cas had taken over the cooking and the grocery shopping. Hell, Dean wasn't going to argue, he hadn't eaten this well in, well, ever. Every morning, he'd come into the kitchen and there would be Castiel, humming softly to himself as he prepared the eggs, or french toast, or whatever the hell he had decided to grace their table with. Every day when he came home from the auto shop, same story. Cas would be in the kitchen, the sleeves of his dress shirt pushed up to his elbows, exposing the taut lines of his forearm, silently working his way around the kitchen. 

The fact that Cas could cook was great. Fantastic even. 

The problem was the fact that Cas had no fucking clue about personal space. 

It was constant, whenever they were in the same room together. Dean would be leaning against the counter, and Cas would pres against him as he retrieved dishes for dinner. If Dean was sitting at the table, a hand would run gently across his shoulder as Cas moved through the room. Leaning into the fridge to grab a beer and Dean would feel the warmth of a palm on the small of his back as Cas came up beside him to reach into the space to retrieve the milk or what the fuck ever he needed.

And it didn't stop. 

Cas was continually touching him. Never anything overtly sexual, just soft, intimate touches to his hip, his waist, his shoulder. Once he felt fingers trail softly across the short strands of hair on the back of his neck as he laid his head on the table after a particularly trying day at the shop.

And every time Dean's eyes would catch Cas's, questioning, pleading for an explanation, Cas would just return his look steadily, eyebrows raised slightly, expression giving nothing away. 

The worst moment had happened only yesterday. 

Dean had just gotten home from an incredibly stressful day at Bobby's and was staring down a shift at Ellen's in less than 3 hours. All he wanted was to slide between his sheets, close his eyes and forget about the arrogant rich asshole that had spent the entire time Dean was working on the car hovering over his shoulder making douchebag comments about how dirty the shop was; how he wasn't going to be able to get the stench of oil and grease out of his close. How he could actually feel the grime adhering itself to his skin. 

Dean had never wanted to punch someone as much as he'd wanted to rearrange this assholes face.

Sure, Dean understood that being a mechanic wasn't a job most people thought of as being satisfying or worthy, but he loved it. There was something eminently gratifying about having the inner workings of an infintely complicated machine laid bare before him, being able to diagnose the issue and then to have the skill set to repair the issue and make the car purr when he was done. It satisfied something in Dean and it frustrated him to no end that this condescending dickwad was standing there, his face pinched in disgust, shitting all over Dean's comfort zone. 

Plastering a fake shit eating grin on his face, Dean turned, wiping his hands on the rag that was placed over the side of the open trunk. Spinning on a heel, he strode toward the cash. “That'll be $250.00” 

The asshole had curled his lip, slapped his credit card onto the table and sneered. “I had better not find a speck of grease on the interior of my car.” After scratching his name negligently across the bottom of the receipt, he folded himself into the drivers seat of his car and finally drove out of Dean's sight. 

Later that afternoon, sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a beer along with his wounded pride, Dean watched Castiel as he moved gracefully around the room, preparing that night's dinner. 

It had become a habit, sitting at the table, sipping at cold beer while Castiel busied himself in the kitchen. Dean had put up a token objection the first time he had come home to find Cas preparing supper, but he had simply fixed Dean with that damned stare of his and firmly stated “It's fine, Dean. Someone needs to ensure you are properly fed, since you are apparently either incapable or unwilling to do so for yourself.” and that had been the end of the discussion. 

They had spent every evening since the same way. Castiel busying himself fixing dinner, Dean sipping beer, getting to know each other through smalltalk. Dean had learned much about Cas this way. He now knew that Cas came from a large family, with 4 brothers and one sister. He loved reading (which really was only logical considering his career choice), old tv shows and green onions in his eggs. He had never owned his own car, loved to jog and had a large collection of classical music on his iPod, interspersed with some more modern pieces as well. Dean was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Cas loved Lady Gaga. That was some pretty screwed up music choices, to his way of thinking. 

Cas had scoffed when Dean snorted derisively at the mention of his musical preferences. “Dean,” he had rolled his eyes. “I hardly think that someone who only listens to one genre of music, and heavy metal at that, has any right to condemn anyone's choices.” 

Yeah, Dean still hadn't forgiven Cas for that. There was nothing wrong with his music. Sure, he never branched out from the collection of cd's he currently had and the classic rock radio stations that were programmed into his stereo. And yeah, maybe he couldn't tell you the title or hum a note of anything outside of Led Zepplin or AC/DC, but he was a guy that knew what he liked and wasn't about to change that. 

While Dean was learning about Cas, he was also revealing more about himself than he was fully comfortable with. Cas had a way about him that made Dean want to open up to the guy. Cas would give him that gentle, blue eyed stare and Dean would find himself spilling everything. Hell, he'd even found himself choking back tears last week when Cas pressed him about John, sitting in the chair opposite Dean while the roast cooked. Dean's first instinct had been hell no, there's not a chance in hell I'm talking about my Dad, but somehow the words came tumbling out. He found himself telling Castiel the story of the night their mother had died and their father's quick decline. He spoke quietly about the nights he would find his father passed out on the front porch, and the nights where he didn't bother to come home, having found willing arms to comfort himself in.

Before he knew it, he was wiping a tear that was slowing tracing down his cheek as he spoke of how he had been Sammy's Santa, because John was too intent on drinking away every dime he managed to bring into the house. Castiels warm hand wrapped around Dean's fisted one that lay on the table between them. He had squeezed gently, his face soft as he watched Dean struggle to bring his emotions under control. No words passed between them for a time, while Dean composed himself.

That was a night that Dean fervently wished had never happened. He had no fucking clue how Cas was able to get him to spill his freaking guts, just by leveling that stare at him. It was damned annoying. 

Today, though, Dean was grateful for Cas's calming presence in the kitchen. There was a feeling of right, that Dean just couldn't seem to put his finger on, seeing the other man moving gracefully through the room. Cas had familiarized himself with the location of all the utensils, and he worked with an easy confidence now, chopping vegetables with precision at the counter. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” his deep voice travelled through the silence of the room. Cas turned his head slightly, his eyebrows raised as he caught Dean's quick glance up from the beer he held in his hand.

“Nah, Cas. It's nothing.” Dropping his eyes, Dean watched as drops of condensation ran down the side of the amber glass. Running his thumb up the side, he smeared the wetness, catching it before it fell to his jeans. 

Castiel placed the knife he'd been wielding on the edge of the white, plastic cutting board and turned until he was fully facing Dean. Crossing his arms over his chest, he simply stared at Dean from across the room. 

“Seriously, man. It's nothing. Just a douchebag asshole in the shop today. Nothing new, Cas. They come in all the time, don't want the grease monkey fouling up their precious air.” Dean groused as he raised the beer to his lips. He ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, catching an errant drop. 

Uncrossing his arms, Castiel strode toward the table and pulled out a chair. Folding his hands on the table, he leaned toward Dean, his eyes fixed on the other man's face. 

“Talk to me.” his tone was gentle, almost tender. 

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration. “It's nothin', man, really. It's just,” he hesitated. “It's just, I work really fucking hard, you know? And I love working on cars. But some days, these assholes come in, looking down their fucking noses at me and it just...gets to me.” He shrugged his shoulders, raising the almost empty beer bottle to take another swallow. Placing it back on the table with a thud, Dean leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes tiredly. “What fucking right does that douche had to judge me, just because my nails aren't clean. He'd still be sitting on the side of the damned road if it wasn't for a grease monkey like me.” 

Dean pushed his chair back from the table in frustration. Rising to his feet, he walked to the cupboard and placed the empty bottle back in the case under the sink. Turning back to where Cas was still seated at the table, Dean leaned back on the counter and crossed his ankles, rather than returning to his seat. 

“Dean,” Cas's voice was almost tentative which was really just all kinds of wrong to Dean and put him on high alert. Cas was never tentative. He was sure of himself, confident, at all times. Dean didn't like the sound of Castiels voice like this. 

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean frowned at the man who was now twisted in his chair, one arm slung over the high back, regarding Dean with intensity.

“Why did you not attempt to get your high school diploma? I understand your reasoning for dropping out when you did. It was a truly self sacrificing decision.” Cas turned more in his seat, facing Dean almost full on, not taking those blue eyes away from Dean's. “Sam is done school now, and has been for a while. I understand that now you have Ben who needs your help, but in that time between, why did you not pursue your diploma?” 

Dean squirmed inwardly under Cas's unwavering gaze, somehow unable to tear his eyes away. Cas had this way of just...looking that made Dean feel exposed, like Cas was able to see things under his skin that Dean tried so hard to hide from everyone. It made him uncomfortable, yeah, but at the same time there was a comfort there, a feeling of okay that soothed Dean. It was almost like he didn't need to explain things to Cas; he already knew.

Dean sighed heavily, slumping onto the counter. “I dunno, man,” his mouth twisted ruefully. “I guess after Sammy got into Stanford on that scholarship, it just felt like I was free, you know? It was the first chance in, fuck, ever, that I'd had a chance to just let loose and be me.” Dean stopped to rake his hand through his hair, rubbing at his neck as he finally dropped his gaze to the linoleum floor. “It's just who I am, I guess. I never figured I'd ever amount to much, anyway.” He shrugged one shoulder negligently.

Dean's eyes shot up at the soft caress of Castiel's hand as it cupped his stubbled jaw. He hadn't heard Cas get up from the chair, hadn't felt him move into his space, standing so close now, that Dean was lost in the endless blue of Cas's eyes, could see the individual eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. Dean felt Cas's hand slide into his own, intertwining their fingers. Cas pulled their joined hands up, pressing them against his own chest as he simply stared at Dean, his thumb caressing the line of Dean's cheekbone. 

Turning his head slightly, Dean let his eyes fall closed as he pressed into the palm that was cupping his face. “Cas,” he whispered, so soft that Castiel had to strain to hear him. “Why do you even care?” Dean's voice broke on the last word.

Feeling the grip on his hand tighten, Dean opened his eyes, pleading with Cas for an answer, for something to help him understand what exactly was going on. The expression on Cas's face was soft, filled with tenderness. His head was tilted slightly to the side, as he stared into Dean's eyes, a small smile on his lips. 

“I care, Dean, because you are so much more than what you lead others to believe.” His thumb was rubbing gently over the back of Dean's hand as it rested on Cas's chest. “You are exasperating at times,” Dean huffed a small laugh at that, dropping his gaze to their joined hands. “But you are good, Dean. You are warm, you are loving, you are uncommonly kind and you are the most pure hearted person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.” A finger placed under Dean's chin applied a gentle pressure, raising his gaze until Dean was lost in the intense stare being levelled at him. Cas shook his head slightly, his eyes, narrowing slightly. “And you don't see that in yourself.” 

“Cas, man, I think you have me confused with someone else,” Dean joked half heartedly. He wanted desperately to hold onto the words that Cas was saying, to believe that for once, someone actually thought that way about him. He wanted it so badly, but his first instinct was to deflect, to make a joke out of the situation. 

“Never,” Cas breathed as he leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Dean's forehead. The hand that had been cupping Dean's cheek slid through the short strands of his hair, holding him in place for several seconds, as Cas's lips stayed, warm and dry on Dean's skin. Dean's eyes fluttered closed at the contact. Breathing deeply, he raised his free hand to grasp Cas's arm, clutching tightly to the fabric covering his forearm. 

Pulling back slightly, Cas rested his forehead on Dean's, his warm breath caressing Dean's cheek. “You are,” he stopped and waited until Dean opened his eyes and caught Cas's. “You are incredible.” he finished, staring intently into Dean's shocked eyes. “And I am intent on proving that to you.” 

Dean couldn't tear his eyes away. He wanted to lose himself in the affection he could see directed at him. He almost trembled at the thought of surging forward and pressing his lips to Cas's chapped ones, giving in once more to the desire to lick, to suck in Cas's bottom lip, to trace the roof of his mouth with his tongue. And more than that, to feel Cas's arms wrap around him, pull him tight against his hard chest, press into his back in the frantic way he had before. He wanted to feel desired, craved, the way he did about Cas. 

He did none of those things though. He simply stood, caught in the force of everything that was Cas. He stared, breathing shallowly, feeling Cas's fingers as they trailed lightly through the hair on the back of Dean's head, shivered slightly at the rough pad of his thumb tracing back and forth over his wrist, where Cas had to feel his racing pulse. He revelled in the feeling of safe that filled him as he stood in his own kitchen, the heat that pulsed between their bodies. He craved this. He had no idea how he had gone so long without this, without Cas. Without feeling like his skin was about to burst because he couldn't hold in everything he was feeling, like he would simply spill across the linoleum floor. 

“I don't understand you, Cas.” Dean whispered. Their faces were so close now that their lips were almost brushing. “I don't know why you care, I really don't. But I'm too damned selfish to ask you to stop.”

A groan escaped Dean as he felt the soft touch of Cas's lips on his as the other man closed the distance. It was a chaste kiss, nothing more than gentle press of lips, and then he pulled back. 

“I know, Dean.” he smiled gently. With one last squeeze, Cas let go of Dean's hand that was still cradled against his chest and stepped back. “Go rest, while I finish dinner. You still have a long night ahead of you.” With a small push on Dean's hip to get him moving, Cas turned back to the counter and went back to work chopping the vegetables that he had left sitting on the cutting board.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, his head cradled in his hand as he tried to process everything that had happened last night.

On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than lose himself in what Castiel seemed to be offering. The affection, the tenderness that he could see when Cas looked at him, God, Dean wanted that so badly. The problem was, he didn't know how to just take it. He was terrified of letting go, of letting someone else get that close to him. Already he was at the point with Cas where he knew without a doubt that when he left, it was going to leave a hole in Dean's life. He was already beyond writing this off as something he'd ever be able to forget. 

How close was he ready to be? Was he ready to open up, to let Cas in, give him the power to hurt Dean more than anyone other than Sammy could? Because that was the only option here, Dean knew that. 

God, Dean wanted to walk into the kitchen this morning, and take everything that Cas was offering. He wanted, fuck yes, he wanted. He wanted Cas. He wanted the intimacy that he was offering, he wanted the freedom to touch, to kiss, to caress. Also, he wanted the caring, the tenderness, the thought that he was safe, that he was cared for and wanted for who he was. 

Rubbing a hand down his face, Dean sighed and pushed himself off the edge of the bed. He grabbed his favourite AC/DC shirt off the dresser, sniffed it and shrugged before pulling it over his head. After pulling his jeans on, Dean took in a deep, steadying breath, opened his bedroom door and headed to the kitchen, where he could hear Castiel, already preparing their breakfast.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean crossed the living room, filled with trepidation as he contemplated what was going to happen when he entered the kitchen. If he were to be completely honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than to open the door and lose himself in Castiel's embrace. He considered for a moment as he paused in the middle of the room, leaning heavily on the couch, what it would mean if he simply stepped into the kitchen, walked to Cas and placed his arms around him. He was sure rejection wouldn't play a part in the scenario, it was what that action would mean. He would be exposing that part of himself that he protected at all costs. 

Castiel had the power to break Dean, and he knew that now. It was a risk Dean wasn't sure he could take. Already, Cas was entwined in Dean's happiness. In a short span of time, Cas had come to mean almost as much to Dean as Sam and that terrified him. 

At the same time, Dean knew he couldn't bear to go on, never knowing what might have been. Never feeling the warmth of Cas's embrace, the touch of his hands, their mouths pressing together, licking open, the sweet slide of tongues. He knew that without Cas in his life, he would be incomplete, forever. He couldn't take that chance. 

It was time to man up and take what Castiel seemed to be offering. 

Dean stayed, leaning against the couch, lost in his own thoughts for an indefinite amount of time, eyes cast on the floor. He glanced up at the kitchen when he heard it slide open, taking in the sight of Castiel's form framed in the opening. 

“Dean?” Cas's low voice was tinged with bewilderment. “What's wrong?”

Lowering his eyes back to his feet, Dean shook his head slowly. That was the thing, wasn't it? There was nothing wrong. Not now. The decision was really so simple to make. All he had to do was reach out and take. Take was Cas was offering, what had always been denied to him, but was now within his grasp. One small movement, one outstretched hand and he would have everything he desired. 

He would have Cas.

Raising his head, he caught Cas's concerned gaze. He could see everything he was feeling reflected there. 

Straightening, Dean inhaled deeply and took that step of the precipice. He held out his hand, opening himself to Cas, taking down that final barrier. 

“Dean?” Cas whispered, taking a small step forward. He seemed almost hesitant, unwilling to move too quickly. 

Dean held Cas's gaze, watching the different emotions move across the other mans face. Bewilderment, followed closely by hope flashed across his expression, to finally be replaced by soft affection as he stepped out of the doorway and closed the distance. 

Dean sighed as he felt Castiel's hand grasp his and pull him off the side of the couch and into his arms. He lowered his head until his forehead was resting on Cas's shoulder, breathing deeply, taking in the scent of the man who held his heart, his happiness in his hands. Dean's arms wrapped around Cas's waist, hands trembling as he clutched at the other man's dress shirt, desperate for purchase. He shivered as he felt Cas's fingers thread through the short strands of hair at the back of his neck. 

“Dean?” Cas whispered as he laid his cheek on Dean's head. “Are you ok?” 

Dean nodded against the material covering Cas's shoulder. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I'm good. I just” he paused, taking in a deep, steadying breath. “I just needed you, man.”

Cas's hand tightened where it was grasping Dean's hip. He pulled back slightly, tipping Dean's face up with a hand on his cheek. Blue eyes caught green, searching. Moving forward, until their lips were brushing, breaths mingling, Cas whispered softly, “You have me, Dean. Whatever you need, you have me.”

Dean groaned as Cas pressed forward, the kiss tender, affectionate. The hand on Dean's hip squeezed gently, pulling their lower bodies closer together. His fingers traced lightly over Dean's cheekbone, mapping his features before sliding back to grasp his neck, holding him firmly in place. Increasing the pressure, he bit down on Dean's bottom lip, forcing a gasp from the other man. Cas licked the swollen flesh in silent apology. Pulling back, he slid both hands onto Dean's cheeks, pressing their foreheads together, both men breathing deeply. 

A shot of fear ran through Dean as Cas pulled away, indecision warring in him. On one hand, he was positive that he hadn't misread Castiel,. The way he'd been acting since the night he'd taken the beating in the Roadhouse, the touches, the looks, the way he had held Dean so close just now, the tenderness in his kiss, it was obvious that Cas wanted this as much as Dean did. But, that kernel of doubt flared in Dean's stomach, reminding him that this wasn't something he deserved. Dean wasn't made for gentle touches, or passionate kisses from someone like Cas. 

He cringed inwardly and tried to pull out of Cas's arms, as desperate now for space as he'd been for touch not two minutes ago. Cas's eyes flew to Dean's as he felt the other man attempt to move away. His hand tightened on Dean's neck, holding him in place. 

“No,” he murmured as he nudged Dean's cheek with his nose. “You're not pulling away from me again, Dean.” he breathed, his breath moist on Dean's heated skin. Cas pulled back slightly, catching Dean's eyes, demanding his full attention. “However, we do need to talk.”

Dean swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from Cas's intense gaze to the wall behind the other man, unsure and frankly terrified of what Castiel wanted to discuss. 

“Uh..Sure Cas.” he stuttered. He ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips.

Cas leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Dean's lips. He could see the tenseness in Dean, knew what he was thinking and wanted nothing more than to ease his uncertainty. Taking Dean's hand in his, interlacing their fingers, he pulled Dean around to the front of the couch, pulling him down to the cushions, sitting so that their thighs were pressed together. He placed their still clasped hands on his leg, running his thumb lightly over Dean's rough skin. 

“Dean, there are...things, we need to discuss.” he began quietly. “Things you need to know.” He squeezed Dean's hand reassuringly, turning slightly on the cushion until he was facing Dean, keeping their hands pressed into his thigh. 

He watched as Dean inhaled deeply. He could see the lines of tension on Dean's face, could feel the trembling in his hand. Cas knew that Dean doubted him, doubted himself. He understood that he didn't believe that he was worthy of love, from anyone. Castiel ached to remove that doubt from him, to help him understand the goodness Cas saw in him.

“It's fine, Dean.” he smiled gently. “I promise.” Cas spoke softly, reassuringly. “I won't hurt you, Dean. You have my word on that.” 

Dean nodded as his eyes stared at their clasped hands, frowning deeply. His stomach was in knots, sweat breaking out on his lip as different scenerios played out in his head. Cas didn't want him; Cas only wanted sex with him, when Dean was ready to lay everything at this man's feet; Cas was disgusted by him, by his past, his failures, but didn't know a polite way of letting him down easy. All these thoughts raced through Dean's mind, while he completely ignored the way Cas had clutched him tight, kissed him with such intensity and affection. 

“I know you remember the first night we met, Dean.” Cas began quietly, his gaze never leaving Dean's face.

Dean laughed nervously. “Yeah, Cas. I remember.” He forced out, his throat tight.

“Sam had spoken of you many times before that night. He would quite often tell stories of you, of the sacrifices you made when the two of you were growing up. By the time you walked into the kitchen that night and found me eating your pizza, I already felt like I knew you well, Dean.” Cas stopped, taking in a deep breath. “By that time, I already believed myself in love with someone I had never met.” 

Dean's heart stuttered at the quietly spoken words, his mind racing as he tried to process what Cas had just said. His eyes darted around the room, falling on the carpeted floor, to the black surface of the magazine strewn coffee table and back, finally catching Cas's steady gaze that had never left Dean's face. His face was tight with tension, his free hand clenched into a fist on the fabric of his thigh, as he allowed Dean time to react.

“Um,” Dean croaked. “What?” his voice was filled with bewilderment. He reached up a trembling hand to rub the back of his neck, his forehead furrowed in confusion. It just didn't make any sense. How the hell could Castiel have ever believed he was in love with Dean. That was crazy, impossible.

“Dean.” Cas's voice was deeper, the low gravel tones raking across Dean's skin. “Dean, please. I understand this is,” he paused and inhaled deeply, dropping his gaze to the tattered fabric of the couch. “I understand that this is difficult, but you need to understand.” He returned his gaze to Dean's, his hand reaching out tentatively to touch Dean's stubbled cheek, his fingers trembling slightly as they traced the line of Dean's cheekbone, feathered over his jaw. “Dean, I'm not interested in a quick fuck.” 

Dean laughed, shocked at the sound of the curse falling from Cas's mouth. A small smile crossed the other man's lips, his eyes soft on Dean's face. 

“I meant what I said last night, Dean. You are the most extraordinary men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.' Cas's finger continued mapping the contours of Dean's face, lingering over his lips, which had fallen open in shock before continuing back to his jaw, then tracing into the short hairs on the back of Dean's neck. “I want more from you, Dean than just casual sex. You deserve more than that.” he pulled Dean closer with a slight pressure on his neck, placing a chaste kiss on Dean's dry lips. “I want all of you, Dean.” he murmured softly. “Everything you have to give.”

“Cas...” Dean breathed against the other man's lips. A thrill shot through Dean as he heard the words he ached for fall from Cas's lips. Everything he wanted, everything he craved was being offered to him. Longing filled him, pulsing through his body, along with the rush of relief as he realized that Cas wasn't rejecting him, but was instead opening himself to Dean; offering everything Dean didn't know until now that he couldn't live without.

Raising a trembling hand, Dean carded his fingers through Cas's perpetually mussed hair, revelling in the softness of the fine strands as they slid through his grasp. He sighed as Cas leaned forward, closing the gap between them, their mouths meeting. Cas ran his lips lightly over Dean's, a feather touch that produced a groan of pure need from Dean before pressing in, sliding his tongue into Dean's parted lips. 

A shock of desire pulsed through Dean as he allowed Cas to search his mouth, tongue sliding along his own, running over the ridges of his teeth, tracing the roof of his mouth. He gripped the back of Cas's head tight, his other hand untangling from Cas's to run lightly up the other man's thigh to pull frantically at the edge of his dress shirt, sighing happily as he pulled it free. His palm cupped the warmth of Cas's waist, squeezing reflexively as he finally, finally was touching the skin that he had fantasized about for so long. 

Cas pulled back with a groan, his teeth pulling softly on Dean's bottom lip. He closed his eyes, gathered Dean tightly to his chest, his hands running softly over Dean's back, soothing. 

“Cas,” Dean breathed, his head resting now on Cas's shoulder. “Fuck, man. You feel so good. Been wanting this for so long.” He turned his head and pressed a lingering kiss into the juncture of Cas's neck and shoulder, sucking a bruise into the tender skin, revelling in the quick intake of breath this action invoked. “I want you, Cas” he murmured softly into Castiel's heated skin. “For as long as you'll have me.” 

Dean pulled back, meeting Cas's eyes, dark with desire. He trembled as Cas blew out a soft breath, his face softening, affection mixing with desire as he smiled softly, running a gentle hand over Dean's cheek, reaching back to cup his neck. Pulling him forward, Cas pressed a soft kiss to Dean's lips.

Cas groaned into Dean's mouth before increasing the pressure, mouth moving insistently now over Dean's. The kiss was heated, desire pulsing through both of them now as their hands ran frantically over the others body. Leaning forward, Cas pushed Dean down until he was pressing him heavily into the cushions of the couch, his body covering Deans from shoulder to hip, legs tangling together. 

Dean's mind was racing with everything Cas had said, coupled with the hard grind of Cas's hips into his, until he was mindless with want, with need. Working his hands between their heated bodies, Dean tore at the pearly buttons of Cas's dress shirt, frantic to feel bare skin, to lick, to suck, to possess. 

Feeling Dean's fingers fumbling at his shirt, Cas pulled back, allowing more room, finally settling in a seated position, eyes hooded as he watched the other mans fingers struggle. He chuckled low and grabbing Dean's trembling hands, he removed them from his chest, bringing them to his mouth. Placing a gentle kiss on the knuckles of each hand, he whispered “Let me” before dropping them and swiftly divesting himself of the blue striped shirt that was covering the skin that Dean craved. 

Dean's sighed as he ran his hands across Cas's tightly muscled chest, raking his fingers over his dark nipples, revelling in the soft moan that action produced. Cas was straddling his hips now, Dean thrusting upward. Cas placed a strong hand on Dean's chest,, holding him down while his eyes raked over Dean's flushed face, smirking in that way that drove Dean wild before reaching down to pull at the hem of Dean's t shirt. In seconds the shirt was on the floor, in a heap next to Cas's and Cas's lips were wrapped around Dean's nipple, flicking the nub with his tongue, his teeth biting gently. He smiled darkly at the sounds that fell from Dean's mouth as he gripped the back of Cas's head. 

“Jesus, Cas” Dean moaned,, his eyes sliding closed. “Wanted this, wanted you for so fucking long.” 

“You have me, Dean” Cas's mouth moved over Dean's chest, his tongue slipping out to run lightly over the muscles of Dean's taut stomach as he moved down his body. “You've always had me,” he whispered into the jut of Dean's hip above the waistband of his jeans, pausing to place a biting kiss on the sharp angle. 

Dean reached out and ran a trembling hand through Cas's hair, loving the feel of the soft strands. He thrilled at the words, letting them fill him, finding the cracks in his heart, feeling them meld the pieces. It terrified him how easy it was to allow Cas into that part of himself that he had protected at all costs, his entire life. Dean knew, without a shred of doubt that Cas had the power to destroy him utterly. He also trusted Cas, knew in every fibre of himself, that Cas would never intentionally use that power against him. 

It was Dean who would fuck this up. Not Cas. Never Cas. 

The touch of Cas's hand on the button of Dean's jeans snapped his attention back to the dark haired man who was systematically taking him apart at the seams. Sliding the zipper down, Cas murmured a soft “Lift” while nudging at Dean's hips. Hell yes, that was something Dean could get on board with. Lifting slightly, he allowed Cas to slide the jeans down over his trim hips and over his thighs before they joined the shirts on the floor beside them. He started as he felt Cas's warm breath on his cock as he mouthed Dean through the fabric of his boxers. 

“Again” Cas chuckled softly at Dean's groan as his boxers followed the same path as his jeans had moments ago, Dean's cock finally freed, bared to Cas's hot gaze. 

“You are so beautiful,” Cas breathed as he sat back on Dean's thighs, running his hands lightly over Dean's bared chest, stopping to roll his nipples between finger and thumb. He placed a reverent kiss on Dean's quivering stomach before sliding down to place an open mouthed kiss at the base of Dean's cock. 

“Fuck” Dean groaned as he felt Cas's warm mouth wrapping around him, sliding down his cock, his fist gripping the base tight. Cas took him in agonizingly slowly, sliding his mouth down Dean's length, eventually swallowing him entirely. Dean lost himself in the feel of Cas's mouth on him, tangling his hands in the other man's perpetually mussed hair, not pulling, just desperate for a grounding touch. Dean's mouth fell open as Cas continued sucking Dean down, never stopping, never giving Dean a moment to breath, to control himself. Just a steady bobbing of his head on Dean's cock, taking him deep, then mouthing at the tip. Over and over until Dean lost all sense of time, until he couldn't take another moment.

“Close, Cas.” he groaned as he felt his orgasm building. He tightened his grip on Cas's hair, attempting to pull him off. Jesus he didn't want to come yet. He felt like a teenager again, like this was his first time in the back of his Dad's car, not able to control himself.

Cas reached up and grabbed Dean's hand that was still tugging desperately at his hair in a strong grip, raising his eyes to watch Dean. His eyes were closed, his mouth open, his chest heaving in gasping breaths as he tried desperately to control his body's reaction. He removed Dean's hand from his scalp and pressed it into his stomach, holding it there while took Dean in fully, loving the way the other man trembled under his mouth, revelling in the knowledge that he was destroying all of his defences, taking him apart with only the sweet slide of his mouth. 

He felt Dean tense under him seconds before a hoarse shout was ripped from Dean as he thrust up with the force of his orgasm. Cas took all that Dean had to give him, swallowing him down as he came in Cas's mouth. He pulled off with a pop, lapping at the head of Dean's cock, making sure he had every drop of Dean before placing an open mouthed kiss on the tip and sliding back up to cover Dean's panting chest. 

“Jesus Cas,” Dean finally forced out. “That was fucking amazing, man”

“Hmm..” Cas hummed into Dean's neck, licking a wet stripe up the tendons. He pressed a kiss into the hollow behind Dean's ear then whispered. “That, Dean, was just the beginning. I'm far from done with you yet.” He tugged gently on Dean's earlobe, then ran an open mouthed kiss across Dean's cheek before claiming his mouth again in a fierce pressing of lips. His mouth worked over Dean's, sucking on his tongue and grinding his hips into Dean. 

“I don't know what you have planned, Cas.” Dean spoke hoarsely, still reeling from the best orgasm he'd had in years. “But Jesus, I can't wait to find out.”

Cas smiled as he pressed another kiss to Dean's slack mouth before moving back to whisper hotly in his ear. “First Dean,” his breath tickled Dean's ear, sending a shiver across Dean's skin. “I'm going to let you suck me off. You'd like that, wouldn't you?” 

Dean nodded frantically, visions of being on his knees with Cas fucking slowly into his mouth making his spent dick twitch with interest. 

“I knew you would,” Dean twitched as Cas's tongue traced the shell of his ear. “Then, Dean, I'm going to work you open until you're nice and loose, begging for my cock inside you.”

“Jesus Cas.” Dean groaned

Cas chuckled and sucked a bruise into Dean's neck.

“Then, I'm going to fuck you Dean.” he shivered at the thought, at the filthy words that were coming from Castiel's soft lips as they trailed over his skin. “I want you so badly, Dean.” he breathed into Dean's cheek. “You don't know how badly I've wanted to taste you.” Cas pulled back, raking his eyes over Dean's face. “You are gorgeous like this,” Cas ran a hand over Dean's chest, stopping to rest over his racing heart. He leaned forward and bit gently at the muscle of Dean's chest, soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. “I've pictured the way you would look so many times. The reality is so much better.”

Castiel placed one more open mouthed kiss on Dean's chest before pushing up and off him. Standing beside the couch, he stared at Dean as he pushed the button of his perfectly pressed dress pants through the hole and slowly lowered the zipper. Dean licked his lips, watching the slow slide of metal. Finally, Cas pushed the fabric down over his hips, taking the boxers with him, allowing his cock to bounce free. 

Once Cas had stepped out of his pants and was standing gloriously naked beside the couch, Dean pushed himself into a seated position and reached out a hand to grip Cas, sliding his hand along his length. Raising his eyes, he looked up to see Cas gazing down at him with dark eyes. His mouth was parted slightly, his chest raising on short breaths. Not breaking his gaze, Dean leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue along the slit, moaning as he finally tasted Cas. He opened his mouth and sucked in the tip, loving the feel of Cas's hands as the gripped the back of his head, pulling him in, forcing Cas's cock further into his mouth. Dean reached both hands around Cas and grasped his ass cheeks, pulling slightly, encouraging Castiels small thrusts into his mouth.

Still holding Cas's gaze, Dean groaned around his cock as Cas increased his thrusts. His hand gripped the back of Dean's head tighter, holding him in place as he fucked into Dean's mouth. He loved the feel of Cas's cock sliding over his tongue and down his throat, the press of Cas's hand on his head, the effortless ease with which Cas controlled his movements. The strength in Cas's hand held Dean in place, not letting him move, pull away. Dean felt himself harden again, and reached a hand down to grip himself. 

“Dean!” Cas's voice was sharp. “No, Dean. I don't want you touching yourself. You are going to come on my cock, not before.” Cas removed the hand he was using to hold Dean in place. One last, slow thrust and Cas' was pulling back, removing his cock from Dean's mouth, shuddering at the feel of Dean's lips as they sucked at the tip, trying to pull him back in. 

Dean looked at Cas in confusion. “What the hell?” he rasped.

Cas chuckled and leaned down to place a kiss on Dean's lips. “I don't want to come yet, Dean. I promise, next time you can suck me till I come. Right now, though, I want be inside you.” He pushed gently on Dean's shoulders, lowering him until he was laying back on the cushions again, one leg bent at the knee, foot resting on the floor, the other stretched out on the couch. He positioned himself between Dean's spread legs and lifted the one on the couch until it rested on his shoulder, exposing Dean to his gaze. He sucked in a breath at the vision before him. Dean was panting heavily, his face flushed, eyes glossy. His cock was hard, pressed against his stomach, pre come smearing his tanned skin. He reached out and grabbed Dean, giving him a few swift strokes, watching in fascination as Dean's eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his cheek into the couch, teeth biting into his bottom lip, hard enough to draw a drop of blood. 

Cas traced his other hand along along Dean's leg that was slung over his shoulder and whispered hoarsely. “Dean, do you have lube?”

Turning glossy eyes to Cas, he nodded slowly. Twisting his torso slightly, Dean reached a hand over his head and pulled open the drawer of the end table. Fumbling around the contents, he finally, triumphantly produced a small tube and handed it to Cas. Reaching back again, he searched blindly for a moment before pulling out a foil wrapped condom.

Cas warmed the liquid that he squeezed onto his hands, before returning his grip to Dean's cock. His other hand squeezed Dean's balls lightly, forcing another low groan from the man who was practically writhing underneath his thighs, watched as Dean thrust his hips into Cas's hand. 

He traced a path from Dean's balls downward until he felt the ring of muscle that he was searching for. A sigh escaped him as his pushed his finger in, feeling Dean stretch around him, gripping him tight.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean's voice was raw. “More,” he ground out, hips still thrusting. “You can put in more, man. Please.” Dean loved the burn, the stretch as Cas pushed in another finger. He knew he was rushing it a bit, but he couldn't help himself. He was lost to the sensation of Cas's hand sliding up and down his cock, twisting at the top to wring a groan out of Dean. He pushed his hips downward, trying to pull Cas's fingers deeper into him, his body tight with tension. 

“Shh, Dean.” Cas's voice was soothing. The hand gripping Dean's cock let go, so Cas could grip Dean's hip, holding him in place. “It's ok, Dean. I know what you want.” He leaned down and placed an open mouth kiss on Dean's stomach as he pushed a third finger in. Sliding up Dean's chest he gripped Dean's chin and turned his face toward him, as he continued fucking Dean with his other hand. Pressing in, he searched until he found Dean's prostate, catching the other man's gasp of pleasure with his mouth. He continued the steady push and pull of his fingers, loving the feel of Dean as his body opened up to him, taking in every gasp, every shudder, working Dean until he was practically sobbing beneath him. 

“Cas,, please,” Dean begged, his green eyes blown wide, staring pleadingly into Cas's. Cupping Dean's cheek, Cas removed his fingers, scissoring on the way out. Leaning back, he positioned himself and pushed slowly forward, eyes falling shut at the sensation of Dean stretching to accommodate him. His thighs trembled with the strain of going slow, until he was fully seated inside Dean. Pressing their foreheads together, he took in a few deep, steadying breaths as he allowed time for Dean to adjust. 

He felt Dean's hands run down his back lower until his fingers were digging into his ass cheeks, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“Cas,” Dean panted. “Move. Please.”

Cas nodded and pulled his hips back, sliding almost all the way out of Dean before snapping forward. Dean grunted as his head pushed into the arm of the couch with the force of Cas's thrust. 

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathed. “You feel so fucking good man.”

Cas pushed himself up, pulling Dean's leg back over his his shoulder, and lowered his gaze to watch his cock slide in and out of Dean's stretched hole. 

“You have no idea how beautiful you look, Dean. Stretched around my cock, opening up to me, taking me inside you.” He dug his teeth into his lower lip as he continued to watch the slow stretch of Dean's body accepting him. He continued his thrusts, steady, as he gripped Dean's cock in his hand, timing his strokes with every snap of his hips. 

Dean watched as Cas's face tightened, could feel his thrusts start to stutter and knew that Cas was close. “Fuck, Cas. Fuck me harder. God, you feel so fucking good. Wanna come” he gasped. “Wanna come on your cock. Jesus!” he cried out as he came for the second time that night, strips of white coating his stomach. Somewhere in the haze of his orgasm, he felt Cas slam into him one last time, burying himself deep inside as he found his own release. His body tensed above Deans as he cried out before slumping over Dean, pressing his face into Dean's neck as he panted, trying to catch his breath. 

Dean ran a hand up to tangle in Cas's hair and pressed a kiss to the man's temple. He chuckled as Cas bit gently at his shoulder, threading his fingers through Cas's hair, his other hand stroking along his back. 

“Jesus, Cas.” he breathed into Cas's hair. “That was..” He stopped as Cas raised his head and caught Dean's gaze with his own before pressing a kiss to Dean's lips. 

“Amazing?” he whispered, his breath fanning over Dean's lips. Dean ran his tongue along his lips, loving the taste of Cas that lingered there.

“Yeah that's a word for it.” Dean chuckled tiredly. He grinned as he felt Cas's nose nudging at his face, running along his cheekbone, tracing a line to his temple, then back to capture his mouth in a slow deep kiss. Not passionate, tender, filled with all the emotions they were both feeling in the aftermath. 

“You are incredible, Dean.” Cas whispered, as he placed more tender kisses along Dean's jaw, then down onto his neck. “I dreamed of this so many times, but nothing” he bit gently at the curve of Dean's shoulder, “nothing could have ever prepared me for the reality.” He sighed as he pulled out of Dean, wincing at the grimace that crossed Dean's face. “Sorry,” he murmured, making quick work of the condom, tying if off and tossing it into the wastebasket at the end of the couch. He grabbed Dean's shirt off the floor and used it to wipe the come off Dean's stomach, frowning at Dean's “Hey, that's my favourite shirt!” before placing it back onto the floor. 

Cas fit himself along Dean, chest to chest, raised on his elbows, so he could see Dean as he ran fingers through his hair, tenderness in his gaze. 

“We should..ah..go back to bed, Cas.” Dean couldn't meet Cas's eyes. 

“Mmmm mmm...I'm comfortable right here,” Cas murmured as he pressed kisses onto Dean's chest. 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean gasped as Cas ran his tongue over Dean's nipple. “But we won't be for long. We could, um..go to my room? I don't have a shift at Bobby's this morning, so we could, ah...” Dean posed the question uncertainly.

Cas stared into Dean's eyes for few seconds, searching before nodding slowly and pushing off Dean to stand by the couch. Extending a hand, he took Dean's and pulled him into his arms, holding him tight, kissing him gently. He tilted his head and slid his tongue along Dean's, gripping the other man's jaw tightly, feeling Dean's fingers digging into his hips. Tearing his mouth away, Cas kissed the tip of Dean's nose, causing the other man to laugh at the gesture. 

Stepping back, he took Dean's hand again and walked toward Dean's bedroom. Turning on the light, he made his way to the edge of the bed. Pulling back the covers, he lay down, feeling the press of Dean's body along his, as they curled against each other. Running a hand through Dean's hair, he pressed a kiss to Dean's shoulder. 

“Sleep, Dean.” he murmured softly. “We can talk later.” Cas allowed his eyes to slide shut, revelling in the feel of Dean's warmth along his front, pressed into Dean's back, an arm wrapped around the other man's waist. He felt Dean take his hand and lift it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on his wrist before pressing both their hands against his chest. Cas scooted closer craving more contact and sighed contentedly as sleep finally overtook both men.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for your patience waiting on this new chapter to be uploaded. Life got in the way and I wasn't able to spend any time writing for a very long time. I hope this chapter was worth waiting for.
> 
> The next chapter will further the plot, I promise.

Dean blinked his eyes open, his sleep muddled brain not quite able to process the noises he could hear coming from the other room. Rolling onto his back, his legs tangled in the sheets, he turned his head slightly, disappointment filling him at the realization that Cas wasn't beside him. Running a hand over the sheets, he could feel the coolness of them and knew that Castiel had been gone for a while.

Dean's face pulled into a frown. Well, damn. He'd been looking forward to a little morning sex to start the day off. He'd fallen asleep wrapped in Castiel's arms, had spent the remainder of the morning dreaming of all the delicious things the could do. The top of the list was Cas's promise to let Dean suck him off until he came. 

Sighing heavily, Dean pushed himself into a seated position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing at the soreness in his ass. It was uncomfortable, but he relished the feeling, knowing that Cas had lost control earlier, pounding into him mercilessly, with complete abandon. He smiled to himself at the memory. Rubbing a hand over his chest, Dean let his grin spread over his face.

He felt good. Better than good, he felt fucking amazing right now. There was a definite lightness to his spirit, knowing that he had basically laid himself bare and Cas hadn't turned away. He felt a thrill remembering Cas telling him that he loved him. Well, that he had thought he was in love with him so many years ago. There was a definite difference between then and now, but Dean let himself be lost in the thoughts of what it might actually be like if those feelings were still there. Dean smiled softly to himself as he imagined days of coming home from work and wrapping Cas in his arms, secure in the knowledge that he was allowed to do that. It was a heady thought, the fantasy of Cas actually wanting Dean around for any length of time. 

Dean sighed to himself as he pushed himself off the edge of the bed. The early morning sex, followed by a late morning nap had left him feeling tired, yet oddly refreshed at the same time. Pulling open his dresser drawer, Dean took out a pair of pyjama pants and pulled them on. Leaving them slung low on his hips, the bruise that Cas had sucked there earlier showing above the waist, Dean rubbed a hand over his chest and smiled again. Contentment filled him as he opened the door and crossed the living room, smirking as he noticed that Cas had already picked up their scattered clothes, folded and placed them on the side table. 

As Dean stepped into the kitchen, his chest swelled as he took in the sight of Cas standing by the stove, stirring eggs for breakfast. Crossing the room on silent feet, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's waist, hooking his chin over his shoulder before pressing soft kiss to Cas's neck. “Mornin',” he murmured softly, running his lip along Cas's neck, stopping to nip lightly at his jaw. 

Cas turned his head slightly, his eyes hooded as he gazed softly at Dean. Turning in Dean's embrace, he gathered Dean close, catching his gasp with a soft, tender kiss. Dean pressed Cas against the edge of the stove, running his tongue along the line of Cas's lips, deepening the kiss with a groan. He shuddered as he felt Cas's hands roam up his sides, groaning as Cas retraced the path, raking Dean's skin with his fingernails.

“Fuck, Cas” Dean whispered as he pulled away slightly, to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead on Cas's shoulder, dragging in harsh breaths in an attempt to steady himself. He could feel Cas's breath on his temple, hot and wet as the other man gripped his hips, pulling him closer, aligning their lower bodies perfectly.  
Cas ran his tongue along the shell of Dean's ear and chuckled softly. “Good morning Dean.” he whispered. “Or should I say, good afternoon. It's almost noon.” 

“Yeah, well someone wrung me out this morning.” Dean mumbled into Cas's shirt covered shoulder. “Can't blame a man for needing to rest after that. Damn good thing I didn't have a shift at Bobby's” he chuckled. “He would've fired my sorry ass for not showing up.” Dean raised his head and caught Cas's gaze. He sighed as Cas pressed a gentle kiss to his parted lips. “Would have totally been worth it, though.” he murmured, his lips brushing Castiels. He pressed forward, deepening the kiss once more, loving the soft groan from Cas as he threaded his fingers through his hair. It was Dean's turn to moan when Cas grabbed Dean's hips and swiftly switched their positions, pressing Dean into the stove, using his body to hold him in place. Both hands cupped Dean's face as he thrust his tongue in, sliding it along Dean's, grinding their hips together, the friction driving Dean wild. 

A low groan escaped Dean as Cas pulled away slightly, pressing a final chaste kiss on Dean's lips. “Cas,” he breathed, clutching at the other man's hips, chasing his mouth, hungry for more. 

Cas took a small step backward, his eyes tender as he took in Dean's dishevelled appearance. His eyes were dark with desire, his hair in disarray from Castiel's searching fingers, his lips red and swollen, cheeks flushed. He traced his finger along the cut of Dean's stubbled jaw, before cupping his cheek and leaning forward for one last, lingering kiss. He let his hand slide down Dean's arm until he found the other man's hand and linked their fingers. Pulling Dean's hand to his lips, he gently kissed his knuckles and, chuckling softly at the catch in Dean's breath at this action, he took another step backward, turning and pulling Dean along behind him. 

“Come, Dean.” he murmured as he started toward the living room. “We need to talk.” 

Dean licked his lips nervously, trailing after Cas reluctantly. Damn it, he really didn't want to do this he thought as he crossed the room, feeling the softness of the carpet beneath his bare feet. He wanted nothing more than to go back to kissing Cas, trailing his lips along Cas's neck, pausing to suck at the juncture of his shoulder, before working the buttons of his shirt open. Dean imagined running his tongue down Cas's chest, stopping to bite gently at his nipple while his fingers opened his zipper before sliding in to grip Cas's cock. 

“Dean,” Cas's firm voice brought him back, his eyes flicking up at the sharp tone. “Sit, Dean. Please,” Cas gestured to the couch. Huh, Dean hadn't realized they had finished crossing the room, he'd been so caught up in his fantasies. Damn. 

Dean worked himself into a comfortable position on the cushion after lowering himself slowly at Cas's gentle nudge on his arm. Twisting his torso slightly, Dean ran a hand along his thigh, nervously waiting to hear what Cas had to say.

A gentle hand grasped Dean's jaw, raising his face until their eyes caught. Dean's breath caught at the affection he could see reflected in Cas's gaze. His heart stuttered as he caught Cas's whispered “Beautiful”, as his thumb ran over Dean's bottom lip.

Cas's fingers trailed lightly over Dean's jaw, lingering momentarily before settling on his lap. Cas dropped his gaze to their still clasped hands that rested lightly on Dean's thigh, and squeezed lightly. “Dean,” his voice was rough, rasping across Dean's heated skin. Cas took in a deep breath before catching Dean's gaze once more, searching. “Dean, we need to talk about this morning.”  
Dean licked his suddenly dry lips. “About which part, Cas.” Dean's voice was hoarse. With fear, with emotion, take your pick. He was man enough to admit he was hesitant to hear what Cas had to say. 

Cas pursed his lips as he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Dean,” his voice was dry. “I think you know.” His gaze dropped to Dean's mouth, watching as the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. 

Dean inhaled deeply, his nerves building as he struggled to find words. “Um..yeah,” he whispered. “You, uh...you mean about,” he stopped, afraid to actually speak the words out loud. “About you thinking that you were...uh...in love with me back then.” Dean fidgeted on the couch, his free hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, feeling the flush of embarrassment flooding his face. 

Dean's eyes shot back up, his brow furrowed at Cas's impatient sigh. He watched as Cas's face darkened, could feel the tension in the other man's body. His breath caught when Cas caught his gaze. He drew back slightly at the amount of emotion that was showing in the other man's eyes; anger, affection, frustration. 

“Dean,” Cas's voice was firm. “That isn't what I meant. I thought I made that very clear to you this morning.”

“What, uh...what do you mean, Cas? Dean dropped his gaze, watching Castiels thumb trace absent circles on the back of his hand, shivering at the sensation.

A warm hand cupped Deans cheek, bringing his gaze back to Cas's. Dean's eyes slid closed as Cas leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean's mouth. “What I meant, Dean, is that yes, I did believe I was in love with you then. But over the weeks, living with you, learning the man you are, I no longer think that.” 

Dean's heart dropped as Cas pulled back. His stomach tightened with anxiety. It made more sense this way, but damn Dean hadn't realized how much it was going to fucking hurt. He struggled to breathe, watched as Cas shook his head slightly, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. 

“You misunderstand again, Dean. I mean, I no longer just believe I am in love with you.” His hand moved from where it was still cupping Dean's cheek, his thumb brushing softly over the lines of his cheekbone, back to thread through the short hairs on the back of Dean's neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads were pressed together. “I know now, with certainty, that I am in love with you Dean,” he breathed. 

With a low groan, Dean surged forward, claiming Cas's mouth in a desperate kiss. He brought his hands up to wrap tightly around the other mans chest, pulling him closer, desperate for the press of Cas's body against his. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean breathed as he pulled back slightly, shivering as Castiels warm breath fanned across the tendons of his neck where the other man was biting softly, “I..uh...”

“Shh, Dean.” Cas murmured. “There is nothing you need to say now.” He pulled back, catching Dean's eyes with a steady gaze. “You are quite simply, the most incredible man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I want all of you, Dean.” he stopped to run open mouthed kisses along Dean's cheek. “Everything you have to give. And more.” he whispered wetly in Dean's ear.

Dean's fingers tangled in Cas's hair as he pulled the other man in to press a tender kiss to his open lips. He thought, briefly that he should probably feel a bit panicked at Cas's whispered declaration, but all he felt was exhilaration. The corners of his mouth twitched in a the beginnings of a smile, as he tried to fight down the urge to laugh. 

Cas pulled away slightly, his head tilted as he watched Dean dissolve into laughter. His hand ran through Dean's hair, as a huff of laughter escaped him. “What is so funny, Dean?” He was staring at Dean with a look of terrifying affection, making Dean laugh even harder. He couldn't control the laughter, his whole body shaking with it as he felt the joy of Cas's declaration fill him. 

“N-nothin' Cas.” he wheezed, trying to catch his breath. “Nothin' at all” Dean leaned forward, lowering his head until his forehead was resting on Cas's shoulder. Breathing in the other man's scent, loving the warmth of long fingered hands as they traced up his spine, pressing them closer together. 

“I see,” Cas murmured as he pressed a kiss to Dean's temple, chuckling softly to himself as he waited for Dean to calm himself. His hands ran soothingly over Dean, tracing circles into the small of his back, pressing into the ridges of his spine, hungry for the feel of the other man's bare skin. Patiently, Cas waited until Dean's breathless laughter turned to equally breathless gasps, thrilling at the change his touch had brought. He tilted his head, exposing his neck at the feel of Dean's lips pressing soft kisses into the juncture of his shoulder. A small gasp escaped him at the soft bite Dean placed there. 

Both hands travelled up Dean's goose bumped skin to grasp tightly in his hair, pulling him back to press their foreheads together. Cas breathed deeply, staring into the eyes of this amazing man who had somehow come into his life. He knew, with certainty that Dean felt unworthy, felt as though he would never be good enough to deserve his love, but in reality, the opposite was true. 

Dean was the most self sacrificing, loving, generous and open man Castiel had ever known. The depth of his caring for those around him humbled Cas, and he knew that nothing he could ever do would adequately express how much it meant to him that Dean wanted him as part of his life. He knew, without doubt that he would do anything in his power to show Dean how important he was. He would help this amazing man understand the effect he had not only on Cas, but on everyone he came in contact with. 

Cas closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling Dean's breath as it traced over his lips, then pressed forward, bringing their lips together, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of Dean's lips, asking for entrance. He groaned as Dean's mouth parted, running his tongue over the ridges of his teeth, tasting the man who held his heart. 

“I love you,” Cas whispered on Dean's parted lips. “You don't know how much,” he angled his head and dove in for another kiss, pressing forward until Dean was stretched out beneath him. Flexing his hips, he groaned at the friction, digging his fingers into Dean's scalp, catching the other man's sharp gasp. 

Dean's heart stuttered at Cas's whispered words. Damn, he had no idea why, but he was done running, he was done fighting. Just this once, he was going to take; take everything Cas was offering, no matter how crazy he thought Cas was for saying it. He let himself be lost in the feel of Cas's tongue sliding over his, at the friction of their dicks grinding together, at the heady thought that this extraordinary man, always put together, always strong and confident, was losing control over him; over Dean Winchester. 

“Cas,” he rasped, pulling away from the other man's desperate kisses. 

“What, Dean,” Cas growled lowly, trailing kisses down Dean's neck, now that his mouth was being denied to him. 

“Sit up.” Dean pushed lightly at Cas's shoulders. 

Cas pulled back, frowning. “If you wish, Dean.” confusion coloured his tone.

Dean huffed a laugh, following Cas's now tense body as he pushed himself into a seated position. Sliding off the couch, he positioned himself between Cas's spread legs, grinning as he ran his hands up his thighs, squeezing the tight muscles he could feel under the material of his dress pants. His fingers fumbled slightly with the button, before pushing it through and lowering the zipper, his mouth watering at the metallic sound. Slowly pushing the material aside, Dean leaned forward and mouthed at the hardness still encased in the soft material of Cas's briefs, chuckling at the harsh groan that was ripped from the other man. 

“You made me a promise this morning, Cas.” Dean licked his lips as he freed Cas's cock, leaning forward to lick a stripe along the underside of Cas's hardness, before placing an open mouthed kiss on the tip. “You promised you'd let me suck you off until you came. I think,” he paused as he took Cas fully into his mouth, sucking gently before allowing the tip to fall from his lips. “I think I'm going to take you up on that now.”

Dean raised his eyes, taking in the sight of Cas's flushed cheeks, his mouth slack at the sight of Dean on his knees, tonguing the slit of his cock. His hands trembled as the gripped the short strands of Dean's hair, guiding him back to the centre of his pleasure, pushing gently as his lips wrapped around him once more. His head fell back onto the couch as warmth engulfed his cock, the tip nudging at the back of Dean's throat.

Dean relaxed, allowing himself to take Cas fully, sliding his mouth down the length until he had swallowed him entirely. Groaning around Cas's cock as he felt hands tighten on his scalp, he gave up control and allowed Cas to move his head, pulling him up, almost off the tip, before thrusting his hips and pushing him down again, so Dean's nose was pressed against his groin. He loved the strength, the feeling of allowing Cas to manhandle him this way, giving up complete control, and at the same time, knowing that by doing so, he was completely undoing the other man. He could feel it in the tremble of Cas's fingers in his hair, in the moans, the sighs, whispered “Fuck, Dean” that fell from Cas's lips. 

Sliding a hand into his track pants, Dean gripped his own cock, jerking hard as Cas thrust deeply into his throat. His hand was frantic as it ran along his length, his mouth wide around Cas's hard cock. His other hand trailed across Cas's taut stomach, up his chest to roll a dusky nipple between thumb and forefinger.

“Shit, Dean!” was ripped from Cas as he thrust his hips forward, holding Dean's head in place, shuddering as he came down Dean's throat. The sound of Cas's groans, knowing that he had done this to Cas, was too much for Dean and groaned around Cas's cock, his own orgasm catching him by surprise in it's intensity.

He closed his eyes as he pulled off Cas's cock, licking it clean before laying his head on Cas's thigh, trying to catch his breath. Fingers traced small circles on the back of his head, steadying him as he panted open mouthed against the fabric of Cas's leg. 

“Dean,” Cas breathed as he raised his head from the back of the couch. “Come here.” Dean adjusted himself, pulling his pants over his now limp dick and positioned himself on Cas's lap, his thighs straddling the other man as he brought their mouths together in a soft, gentle kiss. Dean didn't know how long they sat there, kissing, exploring each others mouths, hands roaming. Not grasping, not frantic as they had been minutes earlier. Now there was a tenderness, affection in every touch. They were learning each others bodies unhurriedly, sinking into each other, giving and taking. Just being together in the aftermath.

Cas pressed one last, lingering kiss on Dean's swollen lips, cupping his cheek with one hand. “Dean, you are...simply incredible.” He traced his thumb along Dean's cheekbone, watching as his face flushed, and his eyes dropped.

“Cas, man.” Dean whispered. “I don't get you, you know that?” 

Castiel chuckled softly. “Yes, Dean. I do.” he pulled Dean in for another searching kiss. 

Dean pulled back, a frown creasing his forehead. He shook his head slightly. “I don't know what you see, dude and I don't think I ever will. But I'm not going to fight you.” He leaned in as the gentle press of Cas's hand on the back of his neck. “You could do so much better, Cas, but I'm too selfish to let you try.” he whispered against the other mans mouth before sliding his tongue along Cas's.

Cas sighed to himself as he lost himself in Dean's kisses. He hated to hear Dean saying that he could do better, but it was a start. He was finally giving in, allowing Cas in. 

Yes, it was a start. But there was still a very long way to go.


	10. Chapter 10

The ease with which they fell into a routine never ceased to amaze Dean.

Not a lot changed from before; Dean would still stumble into the kitchen in the morning, bleary eyed and dishevelled to find Cas already up, put together and preparing their breakfast. Dean would still come home from his shift at Bobby's to find Cas already home, waiting for him with a beer, dinner already in the oven.

What did change, however was that when Dean woke up and dragged his sorry ass into the kitchen, Cas would greet him with a tender kiss while pressing a coffee into his hand. When Dean came home, still reeking of oil and sweat, back aching from being bent over the hood of some rich asshole's car all day, Cas was there, pushing him down onto the couch, long fingers digging into the tight muscles, easing the tension from day before placing soft kisses along Dean's spine.

Now, after an evening of laying tangled together on the couch, ignoring the movie or show that they chose together in favour of discovering new ways to elicit gasps of pleasure and moans of pure need from each other, Cas would join Dean in his bed. 

Cas's own room was mostly deserted now, the dresser only housing a few items that Cas rarely used, the closet empty of all of Cas's work clothes.

Every night, Dean would fall asleep, his head resting on Cas's shoulder, nose pressed into the other man's neck, inhaling the scent that was pure Cas, their legs tangled together under the sheets, Cas's arm a secure weight around Dean's back, pressing him close.

It was damned near idyllic.

Too fucking close to perfect to last, Dean knew that. The happy little bubble they had built around themselves was bound to burst, it was too fragile not to.

Dean knew that Cas was giving him his space, giving him the time that he needed to come to grips with the depth of feelings he had for him. Dean still couldn't wrap his mind around how someone as amazing as Cas could even stand to be in the same room with him, much less think he was in love with him. But, he sure as fuck wasn't going to fight him. He was quickly becoming addicted to the way Cas would touch him, most times so gentle and affectionate, but knowing instinctively when Dean needed more, needed a harder grip, a more forceful touch. He lived for the sound of the groans that were seemingly ripped from Cas as he thrust into Dean, the soft sounds that fell from his mouth when Dean explored his body.

Dean would often find himself lost in the memory of the night before, eyes glazed over, staring into nothing when he should be elbow deep in the car in front of him. The back of his head was going to be sporting a permanent bruise soon from the amount of times Bobby had smacked him back into reality.

There was, of course, one huge problem. 

Castiel wanted Dean to stop working at Ellen's. 

Cas cornered him one evening after his shift at Bobby's. Dean was sprawled across the couch, one arm flung over his eyes, resting his aching body, dreading the long night that stretched ahead of him, slinging drinks to drunk college girls. 

Rolling over onto his stomach when he felt the cushion shift as Cas perched on the edge beside him, Dean practically purred at the feel of Cas's long fingers pushing through his hair.

“Dean,” Cas was massaging his scalp, sending shivers through Dean's body. Cas knew how sensitive Dean's head was. He knew that the slightest touch would relax Dean, a tighter grip sending shocks of pure need through him.

“Mmph,” Dean mumbled, moving his head on the cushion, adjusting his position so Cas had better access to the most sensitive spots.

“Dean, you're tired,” Cas's deep voice was pitched low, almost as soothing as the fingers that were trailing through Dean's hair.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed as he turned his head so Cas had better access. “I'm fucking beat.” A groan escaped him as Cas trailed his hand down Dean's neck to his shoulder, both hands now massaging deeply into Dean's tired muscles. “God, Cas. That feels fantastic.”

Cas hummed quietly as he continued working the tension out of Dean's body. Lifting himself off the couch, he raised one leg and placed it on the other side of Dean's prone form. Settling himself on Dean's legs, he leaned into the massage, digging deeper, loving the groans of pleasure he was wringing from the other man.

Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on the nape of Dean's neck. Tracing open mouthed kisses up the outstretched muscles he bit gently at Dean's earlobe. “I think you should stay home tonight. You need to rest.” he whispered, his breath warm as it fanned over Dean's cheek.

“I'd love to Cas. Really, man, I would. But,” Dean looked over his shoulder, catching Cas's blue eyes that were watching him with concern. “You know I can't, Cas.”

“Dean,” Cas straightened as he felt Dean stirring under him. Lifting himself, he watched as Dean turned, so now they were face to face. He ran his hands down Dean's chest, stopping to rest on his stomach. Tilting his head slightly, Cas watched as Dean's breath hitched at his touch, smirking slightly at the flush of Dean's cheek, the way his eyes darkened. Dean was always so receptive to his touch, opening himself fully to Cas at every moment. He loved that about Dean. The openness he showed to Cas; how far he let him in, let him know his every secret, was a heady thought. He knew how hard Dean worked at keeping people at a distance. Knowing that he had let Cas in, shown him his vulnerability filled Cas with wonder and a fierce desire to possess and protect.

“Mmm...What, babe?” Dean's eyes were hooded as he reached out and grasped Cas's hand, interlacing their fingers.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” Cas waited until Dean's eyes raised and caught his own. Without breaking the gaze he leaned forward again and placed an open mouth kiss on Dean's lips, sighing when Dean opened to allow his tongue to slide in, taking possession easily. Pulling back, he smiled at Dean's grunt of protest, placing a hand on his chest to hold him down when Dean started to lift his upper body from the couch, trying to follow Cas.

“Dean,” he spoke softly, but firmly. “You know my feelings in regards to your job at Ellen's.” His thumb traced circles on the back of Dean's hand.

“Yeah, Cas, I know.” Dean sighed tiredly. He ran his free hand down his face, scrunching his features as he dropped his eyes to their clasped hands. “I hate it too, Cas,” Dean raised his eyes and sucked in a breath at the sheer affection that was reflected in Cas's gaze. Raising his hand he cupped Cas's face, running his thumb along the other mans cheekbone.

“Then quit,” Cas turned his head, placing a kiss in the centre of Dean's palm.

“I can't quit, Cas. You know that.”

“Yes you can, Dean.” Cas's voice was firm. “I'm living here now. I want to start paying my share of the rent and utilities.”

Dean's eyes widened slightly as Cas's words. He really hadn't let himself think beyond the here and now. Things went along day to day, and he knew that Cas had stopped looking for a place to live. But to actually hear Cas saying that he wasn't leaving, that he was staying, here, with Dean, wasn't something he had allowed himself to even think about. He shifted uncomfortably under Cas's steady gaze, fighting the urge to launch himself from underneath Cas and run from the room. And Cas knew it too, the bastard. He could see the knowing glint in his eyes as he pinned Dean to the couch with his hips.

“You, ah....” Dean swallowed tightly around the lump that had formed in his th.roat. “You don't need to do that, Cas.”

“Dean,” Cas narrowed his gaze. He watched the play of emotions on Dean's face, knowing that he was struggling with the news that Cas wasn't planning on moving out. He wasn't going to let Dean run from this though.

Cas knew that every instinct Dean had was urging him to flee; to jump from the couch and bolt from the room. He knew instinctively that his declaration was hard for Dean to accept, but he had no intention of taking it back. Cas was staying. He would remain here, with Dean, as long as Dean would have him. There wasn't a chance that Cas would let Dean down, the way so many in his life had.

“Look at me, Dean.” Cas's voice was low. He gripped Dean's jaw with strong fingers, forcing him to bring his gaze back to Cas's, holding him in place. Cas watched in wonder as Dean's eyes darkened, his breath hitched at the rough handling. He squeezed his fingers slightly, making sure he had Dean's full attention, the skin whitening around the pads of his fingers.

“Good.” he murmured. “Now, Dean,” he continued, loosening his grip on Dean's jaw. “I must insist. I live here now and I am intent on paying my share of the expenses.” He leaned back, resting his weight on Dean's thighs. Cocking his head slightly to the right, his forehead creasing in a slight frown, he allowed his fingers to find their way under the hem of Dean's shirt, tracing small circles on Dean's abdomen. “There is no longer a need for you to work yourself to exhaustion at both jobs. I'm here, I can help. I want to help.”

Running his hands further up Dean's abdomen, taking the hem of his shirt with him, Cas leaned forward, biting softly at the flesh just above the waistband of Dean's jeans, loving the groan the action wrung from the other man. His lips traced wet lines across Dean's quivering skin as he whispered “I'm not going anywhere, Dean. I'm not leaving you.”

Moving his way up Dean's body, leaving hot kisses along the body that he exposed as he went, Cas finally laid himself across Dean's chest, pushing his fingers into Dean's hair, positioning his head before pressing forward, thrusting his tongue into Dean's open mouth, stopping his automatic protests.

They lay there, exploring each other’s mouths slowly, hands roaming over heated bodies for what could have been minutes or hours, Dean losing himself in the feel of Cas's touch, of his lips moving over his own. Driving out the thoughts of what Cas was saying, he allowed himself to fall into Cas's embrace, let the heat of his touch fill him. Thrusting up, desperate for more friction, he tore his mouth away from Cas's, groaning.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Touch me, Cas. Please” he pleaded.

Cas groaned roughly and rested his forehead on Dean’s shoulder. “You are too tempting,” he ground out lowly. Pushing himself away from Dean’s chest, he chuckled at the whine the other man let out. Catching Dean’s hands that were reaching to pull him back down, Cas placed them on Dean’s chest, holding them there while he caught his breath.

“Dean,” he tried again. “You are working yourself to exhaustion. While I understand your reasons for doing so, I believe that we can come to an agreement that would allow you to still help Lisa with Ben’s expenses while at the same time cutting back on the hours you work.” Releasing one hand, Cas reached up and cupped Dean’s stubbled cheek, running his thumb softly over his skin. “I’m here, Dean. I want to help.” He murmured softly.

“Cas,” Dean frowned, “This isn’t your problem. It’s mine. I don’t need help. I’m handling it.” Dean could feel the flush of anger filling him. Seriously, what the fuck? This was his fucking problem, he didn’t need someone coming in and feeling sorry for him. He could handle it, he didn’t anyone’s pity.

“Dean, don’t be ridiculous.” Exasperation coloured Cas’s tone. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy to convince Dean. He had been alone in this for so long. Cas knew instinctively that pride and stubbornness were going to play a part in Dean’s reluctance to let go and allow him to help. “I want to help Dean. I understand that you feel this is your problem to handle, but I must insist that you allow me to offer assistance.” Cas dropped his hand from Dean’s cheek to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly.

“No fucking way, Cas,” Dean growled. He pushed himself into a seated position, forcing Cas to lean back onto Dean’s thighs. “You wanna help?” he ground out. “Then back the fuck off. I’m handling this Cas. I don’t need your fucking pity.”

Cas’s hands gripped Dean’s hips in an attempt to hold him in place. Tracing soft circles through the denim, he frowned at the anger he could see reflected on Dean’s face. “It’s not pity, Dean, I promise you.” Leaning forward he placed a gentle kiss on Dean’s lips, lingering for just a moment. “I love you, Dean. I want to help.” He whispered, close enough that their lips brushed with his words. “You do so much. Let me help you.” One last, soft kiss to Dean’s lips and Cas pulled back to stare into the furious green eyes that were glaring at him from the face of the man he loved. Sighing heavily he pushed himself off Deans lap to stand next to the couch.

“I understand that it is difficult for you to accept help, Dean. You need to realize however that it is not a sign of weakness. You are working yourself to death, Dean and I refuse to stand by and allow you to shoulder this burden on your own any longer.” Turning on a heel, Cas strode purposefully toward the kitchen.

“I am going to go finish our dinner. When you decide to be reasonable and listen to my proposal, you know where I will be.” 

Dean sat, fuming on the couch as he watched Cas’s lithe form disappear into the kitchen. Throwing himself back onto the couch, he covered his face with his hand. There was a part of Dean, a huge part, that wanted to call out to Cas, accept his offer of help. But it wasn’t big enough. He could handle this. He’d been handling everything on his own long before Cas came around. Fuck, he’d been doing this since Sam was just a baby. Dean Winchester didn’t need help from anyone. He handled his own shit and he sure as hell didn’t take charity from anyone, no matter how good of a lay they were.

Pushing himself into a seated position, with his forearms resting on his knees, Dean glared at the carpet. Pushing at the threadbare material with a toe, Dean fumed silently. His body was shaking in agitation as he took in deep breaths to try to calm himself. Seriously, who the fuck did Cas think he was? This wasn’t any of his concern and Dean intended to keep it that way.

A sharp rap at the door brought Dean’s head up quickly. Pushing himself off the couch, he strode out of the living room and yanked the door open.

“Sammy,” Dean groaned to himself. He loved his baby brother but right now he just wasn’t in the mood to socialize. He was fucking exhausted and pissed off at Cas. All he really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for a fucking week.

“Hey Dean.” Sammy pushed his way past his brother into the narrow hallway. “Castiel here?” Sam asked over his shoulder as he peered into the living room. Finding it empty, he turned back to Dean.

“What, you’re not here to see your own brother, Sam?” Dean threw his arms out to the side in feigned hurt. “I see how it is,” he shook his head sadly, walking out of the hallway to settle back on the couch, one arm laid on the back, the other hand resting on his knee.

“Whatever Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes. “I just talked to you yesterday, remember?” Dean watched his giant baby brother cross the room and settle his large frame into the faded red armchair next to the couch. Sam raised a hand and brushed his hair back from his forehead, as he slumped further into the chair.

“What's wrong?” Dean leaned forward, his green eyes narrowed in concern as he watched Sam.

“What?” Sam looked at Dean in surprise. “Oh, nothing, Dean. I'm just tired.” Sam yawned expansively as though proving a point. “I have a big case I'm working on and it's taking up a lot of my time.” He leaned forward resting his forearms on his knees, pulling the crisp white dress shirt tight across his brad shoulders. Sam shrugged. “It's the way it goes sometimes, but I feel like I've been neglecting Castiel. I've hardly seen him the past few weeks.” Sam's eyes flicked back to Dean's. “I hope you haven't been driving him crazy.” His eyes narrowed on Dean. “You've been respecting him, right? Not bringing too many women here?”

Dean slumped back onto the couch, running a weary hand over his face. “Jesus, Sam. What the fuck. You don't think I can control my dick?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “And what in your history would make me think that, Dean?” Sam huffed impatiently. “Listen,” he clapped his hands on his knees, clad in expensive grey dress pants. “I didn't come here to fight with you. I'm sorry.” Sam unfolded himself from the chair and thrust his hands in his pockets. “I just...” he stopped, biting his bottom lip and dropping his gaze to the floor. “I know what you're like, Dean. I just don't want Castiel feeling uncomfortable.”

“I can assure, you, Sam.” Cas's voice was deep as he pushed through the kitchen door. “Your brother has been nothing but accommodating.” Cas crossed the room to stand behind the couch, his hand coming to rest on Dean's shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “He has in no way made me feel uncomfortable.”

Sam's eyes narrowed as they flicked between the two men, stopping at Cas's hand resting on Dean's shoulder. He watched as the tension bled out of his brother at Castiels touch. “What's..uh. What's going on here, Dean.”

Dean watched his younger brother features pull into one of his epic bitch faces. He'd been pretty well dreading the moment Sam figured out what was going on with him and Cas. It wasn't like Sam didn't know that Dean swung both ways. Hell he'd never forgotten the time back in high school when Sam had rushed into Dean's bedroom, his young face bright with excitement, to tell his big brother all about the new debate team he'd joined, to find Dean balls deep in the head of the student council. “Jesus, Sam,” Dean had yelled. “You don't know how to fucking knock?” Sam had rushed out of the room, apologizing profusely, his face burning red. It had taken a few days before Sam would meet Dean's eyes again. When they did finally sit and talk, Sam had been all kinds of accepting, making Dean squirm with embarrassment. If anything, Sam seemed excited to find out that his brother was bisexual, which was all kinds of uncomfortable for Dean. He finally had to threaten to punch Sam if he didn't stop saying things like “It's ok, Dean. You don't have to hide your true self from me. You're my brother and I'll love you no matter what.” cause it was downright uncomfortable.

So, yeah, Dean didn't figure Sam would have a problem with him hooking up with a guy. It's just that this guy was Cas, and he knew that Sam wasn't going to take kindly to Dean fucking his best friend. 

Except it was more than that. Dean shifted uncomfortably on the cushion of the worn sofa. He knew this was more than just casual. Cas had worked his way into Dean’s life in a way that he’d never expected. Hell, he had zero experience with the level of affection, fuck, devotion that Cas gave him. Dean had no fucking clue how to handle it. 

He knew he’d overreacted earlier. It’s just that when Cas said things like that, when he talked like he was still going to be here in a month, a year, it just…it scared the hell out of him. He didn’t want to let himself believe it; it was more likely that Cas would tire of being with someone like Dean, and move on, leaving Dean nursing a broken heart. Dean didn’t know if he’d ever recover from that, so, it was safer to lash out, to not let himself hope.

That didn’t stop him from leaning back into Cas’s grip on his shoulder. He knew Cas had been pissed at him too, he’d been able to see that from the stiff line of his back as he’d walked away. That hadn’t stopped him from coming to Dean’s defence, yet again. Dean shook his head slightly, tilting his chin back to look up at Cas. He brought his hand up to clasp the fingers that were resting just above his collarbone, giving them a quick squeeze. A “thanks” and “I’m sorry” wrapped up in that simple gesture. 

‘Dean?” Sam’s voice was a bit higher as he watched Dean take Cas’s hand, wrapping his own fingers around the other man’s. He glanced up at Cas, and sighed as he saw his blue eyes soften as he lowered his gaze to Dean’s. So, he thought to himself, it’s like that.

Sam’s face split into a grin as we watched the pair. “So, I guess you bringing women home isn’t an issue here, Dean?” Sam threw his head back and laughed at the look of utter shock on his brother’s face

“Uh…What?” Dean stuttered, his green eyes flashing between Cas who had that fucking look on his face again, to Sam who was laughing so hard he had fucking tears in his eyes. 

“I gotta say, guys,” he started once he had calmed himself enough to speak normally. “I didn’t expect you two to even get along, much less” he gestured at the pair with a long fingered hand “this” Sam chuckled again. “But, yeah. Ok.” Sam nodded to himself before huffing another laugh. “Jesus, Dean, you should see your face.” Sam wheezed.

“Fuck you Sam.” Dean groused. 

“Just, uh, Castiel?” Sam levelled a look at the man still standing behind his brother. “Can I talk to you? Alone?” he asked with a pointed look at Dean.

“Of course, Sam.” Cas gave Dean's fingers one last reassuring squeeze before extricating his hand, running a soft caress across Dean's shoulders as he turned to follow Sam's retreating form. Dean reached out and caught Cas's wrist just before he was out of reach.

“Cas,” he spoke softly. “I'm sorry, babe.” He tilted his head so it rested on the back of the couch. He watched as Cas turned and smiled softly at Dean, his eyes gentle. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on Dean's waiting lips.

“I know.” he whispered, his lips tracing over Dean's. “We'll talk later.” One last, lingering kiss and Cas turned to follow Sam into the kitchen.

Well, fuck me, Dean thought to himself, closing his eyes, his head still resting on the back of the couch. God he loved his little brother sometimes. He could be a giant bitch, but when it mattered, when Dean really needed him to understand, to get something? Sam came through. He hadn't known what to expect when Sammy found out about him and Cas; hell he wasn't sure he was ever planning on actually telling him. He had pictured it many times in his head, so many different scenario’s playing out. None of them had actually ended in Sam being so on board and ok with it all. 

Dean smiled, wondering what the two were talking about in the kitchen. He knew Sam, it wasn't going to be a “hurt my brother and I'll kill you” sort of talk. More along the lines of “I'm a lawyer and I know a hundred different ways to put you behind bars for the rest of your life, so be good to him” sort of discussion. 

The sound of AC/DC's Back in Black jarred Dean's from his thoughts. Looking around, he spotted his phone laying on the side table, the screen lit up with an incoming call. Leaning over the edge of the couch, he reached across and glanced at the screen. Unknown name, Unknown number. Sliding the screen open, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yeah?” he grunted into the speaker. “This is Dean Winchester. Who's this?” An unfamiliar woman's voice echoed from the phone.

“Mr. Winchester, this is officer Carlton from the district sherrif's office. We got your name and phone number from the emergency contact information of a Ms. Lisa Braedon.” The womans voice was soothing, filled with a distant concern.

Dean pushed himself off the couch, his heart racing. Pressing his fingers to his lips, he struggled to take a breath. “Lisa? What happened? Is she ok?” Dean's thoughts were frantic. Fuck, no, he thought. Lisa has to be ok. She has to. 

“Mr. Winchester, there has been an accident. Ms. Braedon was involved. It appears that she was driving down Lister St at approximately 2 pm this afternoon when a small child ran out in front of her car. She swerved to miss the child and impacted with a tree.” the woman's voice still had that distant compassion. Like she made this kind of call all the time and even though she was sorry, she'd heard it all too many times to really care anymore. “I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester, but Ms. Braedon didn't survive.”

Dean stopped breathing altogether. “Was,” he broke off, the tightness of his throat making it difficult to force the words from his trembling lips. “Was she alone in the car?” God, not Ben, he thought wildly, running hand through his hair, gripping the strands tightly.

“No, sir. There was a young boy with her, her son, Benjamin.”

“Oh fuck.” Dean panted. “Oh fuck.” Dean could feel his head starting to swim. He couldn't breathe, his chest tight as he prayed that the officer wouldn't say what he was dreading. Please, he prayed, please let Ben be ok. Please, please....

“Ben. His name is Ben.” Dean was vaguely aware of a hand coming to rest on his side. 

“Dean?” Cas's voice was low. He reached up and gripped the side of Dean's face, bringing his gaze to him, steadying. 

“Cas” Dean whispered, the tears finally tracing their way down Dean's cheeks. “Lise, she's...” Dean's voice cracked as Cas gathered him in a fierce hug. His grip was tight around Dean's body, holding him as tremors began to wrack his body. 

“Mr. Winchester?” the woman's voice returned. “Mr. Winchester, are you still there?”

Cas leaned back slightly and gently extricated the phone from Dean's hand. “My name is Castiel, I am Mr. Winchester's partner.” he spoke softly to the officer. 

“Castiel, Mr. Winchester was asking about Ms. Braedon's son, Ben who was in the car at the time of the accident. Please inform Mr. Winchester that Ben is at the All Hearts County hospital. He is injured but is in stable condition at this time. If you have a pen and paper, I can give you the information.”

“Sam,” Cas called to the man who was standing, shocked in the doorway of the kitchen. “Please bring me the notepad and pencil from beside the fridge. Turning back to Dean, he gripped Dean's face with one hand. “Dean, Ben is ok.” he made sure he had Dean's attention before repeating himself. “Ben is ok. He's in the hospital, in stable condition. I'm getting the information now, then I will drive you there. Ok?” Wiping the tears that were tracing down Dean's cheek with his fingertips. “It's going to be fine, Dean.” 

Dean nodded taking in a deep shuddering breath. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on Cas's shoulder. Cas ran his free hand along Dean's back now, soothing with his touch. He placed a gentle kiss on Dean's temple, a deep sigh threading through the strands of Dean's hair. 

“Thank you Sam,” he said quietly as he reached out to take the pad and pencil. Stepping back slightly from Dean, he quickly jotted down the information the officer gave him. Thanking her quietly he ended the call and turned back to Dean, grasping his pale face between both hands. 

“Dean,” His grip was firm on Dean's cheeks, searching his face to ensure that he had his full attention. “Ben is hurt, but the officer stated he is in stable condition. What did the officer say about his mother?

“She's...um.” Dean ran his tongue along the his bottom lip before catching it with his teeth. “She didn't make it, Cas,” Dean's wrecked voice cracked on Cas's name. 

“Jesus, Dean,” Cas gathered him close again, a hand on the back of Dean's head, holding him against his shoulder. “I'm sorry.” he whispered against Dean's temple. “I'm so sorry,” 

Dean shuddered as he clasped Cas to himself, desperate for the comfort that Cas was offering. 

“Uh, guys?” Sam's voice echoed through the room that was silent now outside of Dean's harsh breathing. 

“Who are Lisa and Ben?”


	11. Chapter 11

Dean ran a hand down his face, stopping to scratch lightly over the scruff that covered his chin. Stretching his arms over his head, he arched over the back of the hard, plastic chair he'd been sitting in for God only knew how many hours over the past week. Groaning, he allowed his aching body to remain that way, letting his head fall back, feeling the stretch in his tired muscles.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment allowing the exhaustion of the past week wash over him.

After pulling himself together the night Lisa died, gripping tight to Cas as he had held him, standing in the middle of their living room, Dean had followed him and Sam out to the Impala. Cas held his hand tightly, as he drove Dean to the hospital where Ben was taken. One hand on the steering wheel, the other gripping Dean's hand, his thumb running gently over his skin, Cas's eyes had flickered worriedly from the road to Dean's ashen face.

“Dean,” Cas's voice was hushed in the quiet of the car. Squeezing gently, he waited for Dean's stricken eyes to find his. His heart clenched at the sight of the face he loved tight with pain, his green eyes red rimmed, wide and fearful. He watched as Dean struggled to take in a deep breath, attempting to pull himself together, to find the inner strength that he relied upon so heavily. “It's going to be ok. Ben is going to be fine.”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean spoke tremulously. “I know. That's what the cop said.” He turned his gaze back to the landscape that slid by the glass of the window, wanting to lose himself in blurred buildings, the scattered forms of strangers wandering the sidewalks. Dean huffed a breath as he realized that the old cliche was true. His entire world had just fallen in on itself and yet all around him, life was continuing on as though his heart hadn't just been flayed open. They stopped at a red light and Dean watched as a young mother took her daughter by the hand to guide her across the intersection. A watery smile crossed his face as the little girl jumped right into a puddle in the middle of the road, splashing her plastic red boots, spraying the mother's denim clad legs. He couldn't hear the sharp words the made the girls face fall, but he could see anger in the lines of the mom's face, the frustration as she tugged on her daughters arm to pull her across the street, her other hand rubbing uselessly at the wet spots of her coat.

Sam shifted on the leather of the back seat, leaning forward slightly to lay a hand on Dean's shoulder. “Hey, Dean?” He spoke almost timidly, but his grip was strong, reassuring.

Fuck, Dean thought to himself. How the hell was he going to explain this to Sam? He hadn't really thought about telling his brother. Jesus, he'd barely had time to get used to the fact that he had a son before finding out that he might lose him. He'd wanted to spare Sam the pain of loving a nephew he may never get to see grow up. But now, he'd have to. It was going to break Sam's heart. Honestly, Dean didn't know if he'd ever forgive him for keeping this from him.

“Yeah, Sam?” Dean asked warily, turning to look over his shoulder. Sam's eyes were trained on Dean, worry lining his face as he squeezed his brother's shoulder.

“I, uh, I have no idea what's going on here.” He started, his voice unsure. “And I'm hoping that sometime tonight, someone is going to fill me in. But, I just want you to know, I'm here, ok? You need anything at all, I'm here. Ok?” Sam's eyes were earnest as he spoke. Jesus fuck, Dean thought to himself, feeling his eyes sting with tears. He didn't deserve his baby brother, he thought to himself. He wondered if Sam would still feel the same after he found out what Dean had kept from him.

“Thanks Sam,” Dean's voice was gruff. One last reassuring squeeze and Sam leaned back in his seat, pulling out his phone to call Sarah. His voice was hushed as he gave her a brief rundown of what was happening.

The rest of the trip had passed in a blur. 

Dean pulled himself up in the chair, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. Ben was sleeping in the bed across from him. He had escaped the crash relatively unscathed. He had a couple of broken ribs, a shitload of bruising all over his young body and a gash on his forehead that had required numerous stitches. All in all, he came out of the accident in pretty good shape.

Dean reached out a hand to cover the small fingers that lay curled on the hospital issued blanket. Physically, Ben had come out of it all okay. Emotionally, though, Ben wasn't doing as well. The look of anguish on Ben's face when he found out his mom had died in the crash, the sound of his cries in the harsh light of the small room he had been wheeled into by the emergency workers that had pulled him from the car, that was something that was seared onto Dean's brain. He had tried to soothe his son, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over to embrace the sobbing boy, burying his face in Ben's shoulder as he soaked Dean's shirt. Cas had stood beside the pair, his hand steady on the small of Dean's back.

Sam had remained in the waiting room, unsure, waiting for someone to explain to him what the hell was going on. He'd never seen his brother like this, and it shook him more than he cared to admit. Regardless of what he thought of Dean's choices in life, he had always been the strength of their relationship. He never faltered, he never wavered. He took what life threw at them, picked himself up and carried on. He was the reason Sam was where he was now. He owed so much to his brother.

So, he would be patient, even though it was killing him. Dean would explain to him what the fuck was going on. Or Castiel would.

Sam snickered. Holy fuck, Castiel. Who would have thought that would happen? Hell, Sam had thought those two would hate each other. They were nothing alike at all. Castiel was introverted, fastidious and precise. Dean was brash and uncouth, with little care to how people viewed him. Sam supposed that was natural considering their childhood.

Seeing the closeness between Dean and Castiel, though, Sam couldn't help but feel real happiness for Dean. He'd never seen him the way he was with Castiel. Sam had seen Dean with more women than he'd like to admit, but never had he seen the softness in his brothers eyes that he saw when Dean looked at Castiel. It was as though everything in Dean gentled at the other man's touch. Sam smiled. It was apparent now, that those two were literally made for each other. They were so perfect together that even the small amount of time that Sam had seen them together, he could tell that that they were meant to be together. It was weird as hell, but Sam was just happy that his brother had pulled his head out of his ass and found someone that might actually be worthy.

Sam shook his head, smiling. It was about fucking time, he thought fondly.

A light touch on his shoulder caught Sam's attention. Swinging around, he found Castiel, his face etched with worry.

“Castiel! What the hell is going on, man?” Sam asked, one hand pulling his hair away from his face.

“Sam,” Cas sighed, his brow furrowed. “That is for your brother to tell, I'm sorry. It's not my place.” He gestured to the doors separating the patients from those gathered in the waiting room. “I simply came out to ensure that you were alright. Is Sarah coming?”

“Yeah, Castiel. She's on her way. What about Dean? Is he ok?” Sam's voice worried. “I've never seen him like this. I'm worried about him.”

Cas sighed heavily. “I am as well, Sam. But your brother is nothing if not resilient. He will be fine. Ben isn't hurt badly, which is good news. Dean is with him now. He just was told about his mother.” A pained look flickered across Castiel’s face.

“Fuck, Cas. I don't know what the hell is going on here.” Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants.

“I know, Sam,” Cas nodded sadly, reaching out to grasp Sam's arm. “Dean will explain, I promise. He just needs...time to process tonight.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Sam shrugged. “At least he's got you, now.”

Castiel's lips twitched in a small smile before one last squeeze to Sam's arm. Turning on a heel, he strode back to the room where Dean waited with Ben.

\-----

Cas stood in the open door of Ben's hospital room. Leaning a hip against the frame, he watched as Dean stretched before leaning forward to grasp his son's hand, so small and frail. Ben looked peaceful in sleep, if you overlooked the bruising that covered his small face.

Stepping into the room, he laid a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder, smiling when he felt Dean's fingers wrap around his own. Dean didn't take his eyes off his son, but leaned into the touch, laying his head on Cas's hip and closing his eyes. Cas slid his hand across Dean's shoulder, pulling him in tighter. 

“Hey,” Dean whispered softly turning to press a kiss into Cas's hip.

“How is he this morning?” Bringing his hand up from Dean's shoulder, he ran his open fingers through the short strands, scratching lightly at Dean's scalp. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on the top of Dean's head.

“Good,” Dean looked up into Castiel's blue eyes that were staring at him solemnly. He felt a rush of affection for the man standing beside him. Cas hadn't left his side this past week, other than to make quick runs back to the apartment to get clean clothes and toiletries. Cas had been the one to call Bobby and Ellen and explain to them that Dean would need some time off work to deal with a family emergency. 

Their reactions had been typical, Bobby calling both Dean and Castiel “idjits” for thinking it was going to be a problem and Ellen mothering them both, calling daily to ensure that they were getting enough to eat, enough sleep. She had dropped by the next day with a basket of homemade muffins, kissed them both on the cheek before slapping them on the arm and cursing them for even thinking that she would care that Dean wasn't there to sling drinks for her.

She had pulled Cas aside before she left. “That boy in there, you make sure you take good care of him, you hear me? He's been through too much already.” She shook her head sadly. “Now, I may not be the smartest tool in the shed, but anyone with eyes can see the resemblance between Ben and Dean.” She held up a hand to stop Cas's protest. “Don't even think of it. I have eyes, Castiel. That boy is Dean's son, and there is nothing you can say to make me believe otherwise. Why he's kept it to himself, I'll never know, but it's as clear as day.”

She raised a hand and patted Cas's cheek. “You love him.” she nodded. “That's as clear as day, too, Cas. He's a good man. You couldn't do any better than him.”

“I know, Ellen. Dean is extraordinary.”

“He sure is. Sure wish he knew that, though.”

“As do I, Ellen.”

“Well, you keep telling him. Maybe it will work its way into that thick skull of his” Standing her toes, she surprised Castiel with a peck on the cheek. “You take care of yourself, too, Cas. Dean needs you.” She had shot him one last smile, then turned and strode down the hall.

Gazing down now into Dean's upturned face, Castiel smiled gently before placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Are Beth and Gerard coming by today?” Cas asked as he reached behind Dean to pour a glass of ice water and press it into Dean's hand. He watched as Dean took a sip before placing the paper cup on the beige compartment beside Ben’s bed that held the few personal effects he’d had with him when he was admitted to the hospital.

“Yeah, actually. They are.” Dean nodded. He turned back to look at Ben’s sleeping form. His mouth twisting as he fought back the words he wanted to say. He knew in his heart that Ben’s grandparents were the best option as his guardians. Ben knew them, had spent many weekends with them when Lisa had been working. They loved Ben as much as Dean did. They were stable. They had a house in the suburbs, with an honest to God back yard where Ben could play. And maybe get a dog. Every boy deserves a dog, Dean thought.

More importantly though, if they took guardianship of Ben, his treatments would be covered under Gerard’s medical plan. There was no question that it was best for everyone for Ben to live with them. He just fucking hated it. The selfish part of him had thought that maybe Ben would be his now. He’d even planned out how to renovate Cas’s room to make it kid friendly. He’d pictured waking Ben up, getting his breakfast (ok, well, Cas would do that, but whatever), getting him ready and dropping him off at school, before heading in to Bobby’s.

Just for a moment, he dreamed of a life of domesticity with his son. 

And Cas.

Fuck he wanted that with Cas.

He knew he shouldn’t bother dreaming. Every time he did, it was torn away from him. That hadn’t stopped him from imagining what life would be like for the three of them. 

In his dreams, there was a flash of gold around Cas’s finger.

The flash dimmed and faded away when Beth and Gerard hesitantly broached the subject of Ben coming to live with them. 

He’d known it wasn’t real, wasn’t going to actually fucking happen. He’d let himself hope. Again. And if Dean knew one thing, it was that hopes didn’t amount to sweet fuck all. 

He was going to allow Lisa’s parents to adopt Ben. He wasn’t father material, fuck everyone knew that, Dean most of all. It was best for his son, and he would do anything to make sure that Ben had everything he needed. Dean couldn’t be anything more than a buddy to him. 

Beth had pulled Dean into a fierce hug when he’d told them that he would give up his parental rights to Ben and allow them to raise his son. His shoulder was wet with her tears as she celebrated gaining her grandson as well as grieving the loss of her daughter. Pulling back, sniffling, she placed a hand on Dean’s cheek and smiled at him. “Thank you, Dean.” She had whispered.

Dean had taken Gerard’s extended hand, his grip tight as the older man’s mouth worked, trying to form his own thanks. 

“You know, you’re welcome any time. We’d like to set up regular visits for you and Ben once he’s healed from this,” Gerard nodded at Dean. “This may not be a traditional family, but you’re still his father. We won’t let Ben forget that.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” his voice was hoarse. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I’d, um…I’d like that.”

Cas held him close after the older couple left, one hand pressing Dean’s head into his shoulder, the other running soothingly along his back, whispering “I’m sorry, Dean.” And “He’ll be happy with them” into his hair.

Turning now at the warm palm placed on his neck, Dean inhaled tremulously. Pushing himself out of the orange plastic chair, he groaned as his muscles protested. 

“They’re coming around noon.” He grunted, placing his hands on the palm of his back, arching into them. “He’s going home with them today.” Straightening, he caught Cas’s worried gaze. “S’okay, babe.” Ignoring Cas’s snort of disbelief, he reached out, grabbed the other man’s hand and tugged him closer, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Inhaling deeply, Dean closed his eyes, losing himself in the feel of Cas’s arms strong around his back, holding him tight.

“Really, Cas,” he pulled back slightly, leaning their foreheads together. “It’s ok.” He shrugged. “It was stupid of me to think I’d be any kind of a dad for him, anyway. This way is better.” 

“Dean,” Cas practically growled as he cupped Dean’s face, glowering into his shocked green eyes. “You..” he broke off to press a fierce kiss to Dean’s lips. Breaking away, he frowned as he forced Dean to look at him, holding his head in place. “You would be a wonderful father to Ben. You need to stop speaking of yourself this way. That child is blessed to have you in his life, to have you as his father.” He pressed another kiss to Dean’s slack mouth. “As I am that you have allowed me to share this with you. You are extraordinary Dean.” Cas’s voice softened as he brought their foreheads together again. “I love you,” he whispered, placing soft kisses on Dean’s eyelids. “I only wish you could see what I see.” Cas sighed as he pulled away, still cupping Dean’s face between his palms.

“Cas,” Dean breathed. Pushing forward, he brought their lips together, opening to Cas’s searching tongue. They stood at the side of Ben’s bed, trading soft kisses, both of them lost to the touch of the other. Dean’s hand grasped the back of Cas’s head, angling his own for the other man to take possession, groaning at the slide of tongues. 

The clearing of a throat at the doorway brought them apart, both of them jumping slightly. Dean buried his head in Cas’s shoulder, when he saw Sam standing in the doorway, smirking at the pair. “What the hell, Sammy?” Dean practically whined, ignoring Cas’s light chuckle.

“Whatever, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes as he stepped into the hospital room. “Not really my fault you two were making out like a couple of teenagers next to Ben’s bed.” He gestured to the boy who was still sleeping under the mound of blankets Dean had covered him with. “How is he, anyway? Sorry I haven’t been around all week.” He apologized with a wince. “That case has kept me at the office late every night.” He pointed a finger at Dean. “And you still owe me an explanation, Dean. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.” 

Dean tensed and felt Cas’s arms tighten reflexively around his waist. 

Fuck, he’d forgotten. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Dean thought wildly. 

Cas dropped his arms from Dean’s waist. Placing one palm on the centre of his lower back, he leaned in, whispering. “Why don’t you and Sam go to the Family room. I will wait here for Beth and Gerard.” 

Dean’s eyes flew up to Cas’s, panic making them wide. 

“It will be fine, Dean. Just be…honest.” Cas’s voice was low. “Your brother loves you. He will understand. In time. Give him this, Dean. He deserves to know his nephew.”

Dean nodded jerkily, pulling away from Cas’s warmth.

“Ok, Sammy. C’mon.” He drew in a deep breath. He was terrified how Sam was going to react. Dean’s motives had been pure, he’d never set out to hurt Sam. Or Ben. He wasn’t trying to deprive them of each other. 

He was afraid. 

Afraid of how Sam would look at him after, the disappointment he would see in his brother’s eyes. Another royal fuck up by Dean. God his life was full of them. Why Sam would be surprised at one more, God only knew. But this time, this time Dean had fucked up bad and he knew it. Not with Ben, never that. But not telling Sam? That was unforgivable. They were family. Dean never should have hid from Sam that he had a nephew. 

He just couldn’t bear watching Sam fall in love with Ben, only to learn that he may lose him. 

Leading Sam out of the room and down the starkly lit hall, Dean drew in deep breaths in attempt to calm the nerves that were making his hands shake, his steps almost falter. They entered the sunlit Family Room at the far end of the same hall that Ben’s room was in. Dean had spent a fair bit of time in here over the past few days, looking out the window at the oak tree that shaded the bench set in the grass below the window. Praying. Praying to a God he didn’t believe existed that Ben would recover, that he would heal and live a full, long life. 

Turning to Sam, he gestured toward the worn blue couch that lined the far wall, facing the ancient television on the opposite side of the room. “You, ah…you might want to sit down.” Dean rubbed a hand down his face, stopping to cover his mouth as he watched Sam hike his dress pants and settle, legs spread on the hard cushion.

“So, um..Ben.” he started

“Yeah, Dean. Ben.” Sam interrupted. “Just hold on a minute, Dean. Before you start, I have one question.” 

Dean frowned at his brothers words, confusing masking his features. “Okay” he drew the word, hesitation in his tone.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to be surprised when you tell me Ben is your son?” Sam rolled his eyes at the look of shock that passed over Dean’s face. “Oh come on, Dean. That kid is the spitting image of you. Christ, I’m not blind or stupid you know.” Sam leaned heavily back onto the couch, his head turned to look out the window. “How long have you known?” he asked quietly.

“About a year, I guess,” Dean’s reply was quiet.

“Jesus,” Sam spat out the curse. “Were you ever going to tell me I had a fucking nephew?” Sam’s hair swung on the collar of his suit jacket as he turned back to face his brother. Dean’s heart sank at the anger he saw reflected on Sam’s face. 

“Honestly, Sam?” Dean’s shoulders slumped at Sam’s pinched expression. His eyes were tight with anger, his lips pressed together, head tilted slightly to one side as he waited for Dean to explain himself. 

“Yeah, Dean. Lets try that for once. A little honesty.”

“No, Sam.” Dean whispered. “I wasn’t going to tell you.” He closed his eyes, running a hand down his face. “But not for the reason you think. Sam, it’s not what you think, believe me.”

“Really, Dean? Then what is it? Tell me, Dean. What the fuck is it that you weren’t going to tell me you had a son. That I had a fucking nephew! Jesus Christ.” He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Exhaling slowly, Dean raised his eyes from the patterned carpet, flinching inwardly at the steadiness, the fury in Sam’s gaze.

“He has leukemia, Sam.” Dean watched his brother’s mouth fall open in disbelief. “We found out a few months ago. Hell Sam, I was still getting used to the idea of being a Dad when I found out I might lose him.” Dean sank to the couch beside Sam, cradling his head in his hand. “I didn’t want you to have to lose him too.” He whispered hoarsely.

Dean looked over at Sam as he felt a warm hand press between his shoulder blades. “Dean,” Sam’s voice was soft, all traces of anger gone, replaced by disbelief and sorrow. “Jesus Dean.” He pulled his brother into a fierce hug. “You should have told me, man.” Deans hands wrapped around his brothers shoulder, gripping him tight. “You should have told me,” Sam repeated.

Dean nodded into Sam’s shoulder. “I know, Sam. I was wrong. I just didn’t want you to have to face losing Ben too. He’s a helluva kid. You can’t help but love him.” He laughed as he pulled out of his brothers arms. “Just like his Dad, yeah?” Dean raised a hand to swipe at this nose, sniffling. Fuck, he hadn’t cried this much in, fuck, ever. Dean really fucking hoped that was going to stop soon. He was turning into a girl. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” He laughed easily. “More like his uncle.” Holding out his hand, he pulled Dean up off the couch. 

“C’mon jerk.” He nodded his head to the door. “Introduce me to my nephew, will you?”

“You got it.” Dean slapped a hand on his brother’s back, “Bitch,” he whispered as he walked by Sam, still reeling from the fact that Sam knew now. He knew and he didn’t hate Dean. Sure he was pissed that he’d missed so much, but Dean would fix that now. He’d make sure that Sam got to know Dean’s son, get the chance to love him as much as Dean did. 

Dean dared to let a genuine smile cross his face as his boots echoed through the empty hall.


End file.
